Despite only appearing in a handful of verses, Nimrod is a legendary character reputed to be the founder of great cities and a mighty hunter.

This article explores who Nimrod was, what the Bible says about him, and why he still matters for Christians today.

Who was Nimrod in the Bible?

Nimrod is an ancient king, a mighty warrior, and one known to be a mighty hunter before the Lord (Gen 10:8–9; 1 Chron 1:10). According to Genesis 10:11–12, he founded many cities: 

The beginning of his kingdom was Babel, Erech, Akkad, and Calneh in the land of Shinar. From that land he went into Assyria and built Nineveh, Rehoboth-ir, Calah, and Resen between Nineveh and Calah; that is the great city.

Genesis 10:6–8 and 1 Chronicles 1:10 identify Nimrod as the descendant of Cush, from whom the Cushites get their name.¹ The Cushites lived roughly in modern Ethiopia (Kush) and they play an important role in the Bible’s story. For example, Moses marries a Cushite (Num 12:1). Given this marriage, it seems unlikely that Nimrod’s father, Cush, and the Cushites took a reputation hit for being related to Nimrod.  

Genesis 10:8 further explains, “he was the first on earth to become a mighty warrior [גִּבּוֹר].” Of all the names mentioned in the Table of Nations (Gen 10), Nimrod “is the only figure significantly elaborated upon.”²

Of the three places where Nimrod is named in the Bible (Gen 10:8–12; 1 Chron 1:10; Mic 5:5–6), Micah best illustrates his ongoing significance in the historical memory of Israel. In Micah 5:5–6, the prophet associates Assyria with the land of Nimrod, which suggests not only a long-term interest in the person of Nimrod but also hints at where ancient Hebrews believed Nimrod built his cities.

What does it mean that Nimrod was “a mighty hunter before the LORD”?

The phrase “a mighty hunter before the LORD” (Gen 10:9) seems simple at first glance. Calling Nimrod a hunter may simply describe him as one who hunts for game, for food. Yet its specific meaning is debated.

“Hunter”

Due to Nimrod’s association with Babel, Augustine suggests that the title “hunter” may indicate that Nimrod was “a deceiver, an oppressor, a slayer of earth-born creatures.”³ Augustine may be correct, given how negatively Genesis portrays Nimrod. Genesis Rabbah, a Jewish midrash, likewise supports Augustine’s negative view of the title “hunter.” The midrash points to a parallel between Esau and Nimrod and concludes, “just as that one hunted [ensnared] people through their words, so, too, this one hunts [ensnares] people with their words” (Gen Rab 37:2).

Additionally, Genesis 10:9 recasts Nimrod into the image of the mighty men of old, those identified as Nephilim, in the antediluvian age (Gen 6:4). The adjective “mighty” (גִּבּוֹר) is the same word that describes the Nephilim in Genesis 6:4—“the mighty men.” In ancient Greek translations, usually called the Septuagint (LXX), Nimrod is called a “giant” just as the Nephilim are in Genesis 6:4. If we grant this connection, then the description of Nimrod as a “mighty hunter” may take a more sinister tone. Was Nimrod like the Nephilim of old, those mighty men who led to the flood of the earth? And, if so, might the word “mighty” take a negative connotation, as it does in Isaiah 49:25, where it means “tyrant”? If so, the act of hunting may very well represent acts of evil.

Further, since Genesis 10:10 says, “The beginning of [Nimrod’s] kingdom was Babel,” it seems likely that he founded the city of Babylon,⁴ which rebels against God in Genesis 11. That Nimrod founded Babylon furthers the impression that Nimrod, this mighty hunter and founder of cities, is portrayed as a Nephilim. This would also support Augustine’s suggestion that the word “hunter” implies that Nimrod was “an oppressor, a slayer of earth-born creatures.”

“before the LORD”

The next debated word is the preposition “before” (לִפְנֵי).

Historically, authors like Augustine of Hippo believed that this word took on the sense of being “against the Lord.”⁵ Others like Chrysostom took the phrase to imply that Nimrod was “strong and brave.” Chrysostom maintains that “before the Lord” likely means that God created Nimrod, yet wonders if it might mean that God intended to provoke our wonder at his creation of such a legendary figure.⁶ Interpreters have gone back and forth on the moral implications of the word “before.” Only contextual factors can ultimately decide the question.

That said, לִפְנֵי only appears three times prior to Genesis 10:9 (Gen 6:11, 13; 7:1), and in each case it takes the sense of “according to the opinion of.”⁷ For example, in Genesis 7:1, the LORD says of Noah, “for I have seen that you are righteous before [לִפְנֵי] me.” If Genesis 10:9 follows this pattern, it may mean that the LORD judges Nimrod to be a mighty hunter. However, the next three uses of לִפְנֵי in Genesis take temporal and spatial senses of “before” (Gen 13:9, 10; 17:1). So we should be slow to conclude one way or the other.

We do, however, know what its object means: the LORD. In English versions of the Old Testament, LORD translates God’s covenantal name Yahweh, not the general term for God, Elohim. Therefore, no matter how Nimrod is before the LORD, Genesis 10:9 tells us Nimrod was a mighty hunter before Yahweh—whether that means in the presence of Yahweh, against Yahweh, or in the opinion of Yahweh. 

Interestingly, a small group of late Greek and Latin witnesses replace LORD with God, perhaps because of the oddness of this phrase. But the majority reading is LORD in Greek (κυρίου) and YHWH in Hebrew (יהוה). This small exception in the manuscript tradition may suggest that scribes were uncomfortable with Nimrod being before the “LORD” and thought it better to say “God.”

Whatever the meaning of this phrase, we can safely conclude that Nimrod was an important figure in the ancient world, not only for his city-building efforts but also because of his connection to Yahweh.

Is Nimrod connected to the Tower of Babel?

Nimrod founded many cities in the land of Shinar, including Babylon, according to Genesis 10:10: “The beginning of his kingdom was Babel, Erech, Akkad, and Calneh in the land of Shinar.” In the land of Shinar, people built the Tower of Babel (Gen 11:2). It stands to reason that, due to the relationship between the Table of Nations in Genesis 10 and how those nations rebelled against God in Genesis 11:1–9, readers should see Nimrod as a founder of a kingdom that rebelled against God at the Tower of Babel.

The name Nimrod may also hint at his connection to Babel. The Hebrew root מרד (m-r-d), from which the name Nimrod (נִמְרֹ(וֹ)ד) could derive (n-m-r-d), means “to rise in revolt” or “to rebel.”⁸ While it is not possible to know for sure if readers are meant to hear “rebel” in the name Nimrod, a number of textual clues suggest that this is indeed intended.

First, as noted above, the word “mighty” recalls the mighty men of old from Genesis 6:4, possibly identifying them with the Nephilim.

Second, Genesis 11:1–9 and Genesis 10:8–12 share a number of verbal allusions, which includes vocabulary and phrases such as חלל (“to begin”), בָּבֶל (“Babel”), שִׁנְעָר (“Shinar”), עַל־כֵּן (“therefore”), בנה (“to build”), and the city-building motif culminating in הָעִ֥יר הַגְּדֹלָֽה (“the great city,” 10:12) paralleling עִ֗יר וּמִגְדָּל (“a city and a tower,” 11:4). Since these terms describe human activity explicitly condemned by YHWH in Genesis 11:1–9, the lexical links cast Nimrod and his empire-building as rebellious.

Third, the simple fact that Nimrod builds empires confirms this interpretation. He builds four cities, one of which, Resen, is called “the great city” (Gen 10:11–12). In the Bible, the empires of man are regular antagonists of the city of God, Jerusalem—or the people of God, Israel (see the next section). Further, Nimrod’s kingdom includes the city of Babel, which—along with the city of Nineveh, which he also builds—stands as the key city that opposes God in Scripture.

In summary, Genesis 10 names Nimrod as an extraordinary figure whose name is associated with the cities of man that rebel against the city of God.

How does Nimrod’s kingdom contrast with the kingdom of God?

Genesis traces two groups of people: those born of the seed of the woman and those born of the seed of the serpent (Gen 3:15). The groups are not marked by biology but by worship and morality. So Cain, as the offspring of the serpent, murders Abel and founds the first city, which he names after his son, Enoch (Gen 4:17). 

While the city has beauty, culture, and science (Gen 4:21–22), its foundation on murder means that it culminates in murder, too. The beautiful, murderous, and vengeful poem of Lamech stands as a testimony to what the city of man can achieve (Gen 4:23–24).

The great cities of Nimrod, including Babel, mark a continuation of Genesis’s critique of the cities of man. The Tower in Babel is what such cities create. By contrast, the Pentateuch speaks about another city, a city that God will build, where he will place his name (e.g., Deut 12:5). 

This city—not made with human hands but whose founder and designer is God—is eventually symbolized by Jerusalem. As the earthly symbol for God’s true city, it symbolizes the Jerusalem above that at the end of time will descend from heaven to wipe out “Babylon the Great” (Heb 11:10, 16; 12:22; 13:14; Rev 18:2; 21:1, 10). Augustine famously applies these themes of two seeds and two cities in his work The City of God.

Applying this biblical theology to Nimrod clarifies that his city-building is not a morally neutral activity, but rather an attempt to build safety and security apart from God in the wasteland of a sin-cursed world.   

What can Nimrod teach us today? 

Nimrod becomes a link between the antediluvian world’s “mighty men” and the postdiluvian’s. Despite the flood, “great ones” still exist.

Nimrod shows how the story of the two seeds (see Gen 3:15) plays out in a postdiluvian world. We learn that it is not biology but sin and rebellion that places one on the side of the seed of the serpent.

Nimrod sets up an archetypal man, a hunter like Esau, who rebels against God. The city of God stands fast against the city of man. 

Christians, therefore, have much to learn from Nimrod. We can learn to avoid his pride, as Babel aimed to build its tower into the heavens. Instead, we need God to descend from heaven. We need a Savior who will come down to us, not us to him.

Even the mighty men and their empires cannot suffice.

Resources for further study

The Book of Jubilees

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The Unseen Realm: Discovering the Supernatural World of the Bible (Expanded Edition)

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Babel: Political Rhetoric of a Confused Legacy

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From Creation to Babel: Studies in Genesis 1–11

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The City of God and the Goal of Creation (Short Studies in Biblical Theology)

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The City of God, 2 vols. (The Works of Saint Augustine: A Translation for the 21st Century)

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• When Did Jesus Preach to Spirits in Prison? | Thomas Schreiner on 1 Peter 3:18–22

Only about 1.8 percent of Americans have a PhD.⁹ Getting a PhD is rare.

If you are considering joining this academic minority, keep reading. What follows is a short guide meant to help you think honestly about the decision. Perhaps I will talk you into it. Perhaps I will talk you out of it. Either way, the goal is clarity.

Let me talk you into a PhD

There are many reasons why people might pursue a PhD. Some are healthy. Some are not. I once had someone tell me he wanted to earn a PhD so no one could ever argue with him again. That confidence would not survive long. He would only need to wait until he published a monograph and received a one-star review from a freshman.

Still, there are good reasons to do the work. Here are five:

1. You have an itch that will take five to seven years to scratch

When I first started asking whether I should pursue a PhD, I talked to a friend who was nearing the end of his thesis. I expected a long speech.

Instead he said, “Only do it if you have an itch you want to scratch for five to seven years.”

A PhD requires a subject you care about deeply enough to live with it for a long time. You will read about it constantly. You will return to the same question again and again as days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. During my own program, I spent seven Christmas breaks working on my topic!

But this is also the gift of the PhD. It is one of the few seasons in life where you are allowed to examine one idea more carefully than almost anyone else in the world has examined it.

2. You want to produce original research to contribute something unique

In my book A World Without God: The Search for Meaning in a World Overcome by Despair, I describe the digital age as the peak of modernization. We are drowning in information. Everyone is repeating someone else. It becomes exhausting.

What the world actually needs are people who step out of that current and contribute something genuinely thoughtful.

Mortimer Adler wrote in How to Read a Book, “To be informed is to know simply that something is the case.” Much of what passes for expertise today falls into that category. People know facts. They repeat facts. They repeat them loudly. But Adler continues:

To be enlightened is to know, in addition, what it is all about. Why it is the case. What its connections are with other facts. In what respects it is the same and in what respects it is different.¹⁰

A PhD moves a person from being informed to becoming enlightened, albeit in a narrow area of study. The process pushes you to understand not only what something is but also why it matters and how it connects to everything around it.

3. Your work will be tested by other scholars

One of the most difficult aspects of doctoral work is also one of the most valuable. Your thinking will constantly be examined.

Your supervisor will challenge your claims. Other scholars will question your assumptions. Every argument will be pressed. As a sports fan, I often think of this as full-court pressure that lasts for years.

My own thesis was 180,000 words. My supervisor required me to defend every sentence. Sometimes I would submit a chapter and receive pages of comments in return. At the time it felt exhausting. Later I realized it was a gift. He was preparing me for the final defense. He wanted to make sure I knew my own argument better than anyone else in the room.

When the process is complete, something meaningful happens. Other scholars recognize that your work has been examined and tested. In a world where anyone can start a podcast or self-publish anything they want, peer review still matters. It signals that your work has endured scrutiny.

4. You want to teach in higher education

If your goal is to become a professor, a PhD should be on your radar.

In most universities, especially those accredited by the Association of Theological Schools, doctoral training is required for teaching certain subjects. That means that if you want to teach New Testament, Old Testament, hermeneutics, or theology at the graduate level, the PhD becomes necessary. The degree signals that you have spent years studying the discipline deeply enough to guide others through it.

5. You value the formation that comes through endurance

When someone earns a PhD, it says something about their character.

It means they can commit themselves to a long process. They can develop a method for studying a problem. They have engaged hundreds of books and articles. They wrote something substantial that contributes to an ongoing conversation.

That level of endurance requires discipline, patience, and humility (because you will be corrected often).

The process trains you to think carefully and to persist through long stretches of work that offer little immediate reward. That formation alone can make the experience worthwhile.

Let me talk you out of a PhD

I have also watched many people begin the PhD conversation with great excitement. Then the process stalls before a proposal is ever written.

So here is the other side of the conversation. As the old proverb says, Caveat emptor (“Let the buyer beware!”).

1. There are no shortcuts

A PhD usually takes five to seven years. Sometimes longer.

Certain chapters may take a year or two to complete. You will read books that turn out to be useless and buy expensive monographs that contribute only a single footnote. I once purchased a book for ninety dollars and realized within two minutes that I did not need it.

Your supervisor will return drafts with comments that send you back to work again. At one point, I spent nine months writing my first chapter, only to be told that the structure was wrong and needed to be rewritten.

There is no clever way around the work.

2. It is expensive

Doctoral programs vary widely in cost, but it is common to hear numbers between forty and eighty thousand dollars.

Some programs offer scholarships. Some universities provide funding packages. Those opportunities exist. Still, many people pay a significant portion of the cost out of pocket.

Other pressures tend to accompany the intellectual and financial pressures: tuition payments arrive while chapters are still unfinished, conferences require travel, and books continue to accumulate.

The rewards, if they come, arrive slowly.

3. Mental health can suffer

We need to be honest here: Studies suggest that depression and anxiety are highly prevalent among PhD students.¹¹

When people imagine doctoral study, they picture the prestige of the degree, the books they might publish, or the conferences where they will present. What they often overlook is the isolation.

You may spend long stretches working alone. Deadlines will loom constantly. Drafts will return with pages of corrections.

During my own program, I gained forty pounds. My weakness became key lime pie. After long writing sessions, I would sit at my desk and eat an entire one straight from the tin with a fork. I also developed a kind of obsessive attention to detail. Hours disappeared while adjusting footnotes. Parsing through bibliographical entries trained me to fuss over everything in my personal space: the wrinkles in my clothes, the objects in my home, the way my refrigerator was organized. It was misery.

4. The academic job market is tight

The number of full-time faculty positions is shrinking. Many universities have reduced or merged programs in the humanities. Theology departments face similar pressures. Adjunct teaching has increased. Tenure-track positions appear less frequently.

The familiar image of the gray-haired professor lecturing in a tweed jacket in a quiet hall is fading. That does not mean doctoral training is useless. It does mean that those who complete the degree may need an extra dose of creativity to figure out how to use their expertise.

5. You might become unbearable

There is also a social risk.

When you pursue a PhD, you spend years thinking about your thinking. You constantly analyze arguments, evidence, assumptions, and conclusions.

Eventually that habit follows you everywhere. You begin explaining things that no one asked about. Conversations drift toward analysis when they were meant to be casual. Friends may grow weary when ordinary discussions turn into miniature lectures.

It is difficult to notice when this shift happens. It is even harder to stop.

You decide!

The decision to pursue a PhD carries both risks and rewards. The process can shape your mind and open doors that would otherwise remain closed. It can also cost years of effort, a great deal of money, and a fair amount of emotional strain.

Before moving forward, it is wise to discuss the decision with the people closest to you. An informed decision is always the best decision. Whether your answer is yes or no, clarity is a gift.

Share your thoughts

Why should—or shouldn’t—one get a PhD? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Resources for further reflection

Surviving and Thriving in Seminary: An Academic and Spiritual Handbook

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Prepare, Succeed, Advance: A Guidebook for Getting a PhD in Biblical Studies and Beyond, 2nd ed.

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A Little Exercise for Young Theologians

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A Little Book for New Theologians: Why and How to Study Theology (Little Books)

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From Topic to Thesis: A Guide to Theological Research

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Mobile Ed: Introduction to Writing Bundle (3 courses)

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Writing Theology Well: A Rhetoric for Theological and Biblical Writers, 2nd ed.

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The Elements of Style

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Some of my most spiritually rich and formative years were spent in seminary.

From 2011 to 2014, I had the privilege of studying at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. I was equipped for ministry in the classroom, gained practical experience as a member of a wonderful local church, and enjoyed the blessings of deep community life in both settings.

One of the unexpected gifts of those years—and one for which I remain deeply thankful to God—was a few good friends. From Super Bowl parties to fervent prayer gatherings, from March Madness excitement to memorizing Hebrew vocabulary, from tears of joy to tears of sorrow, our shared experiences profoundly shaped me.

In this article, I want to encourage those currently in seminary, or preparing to begin, not to overlook the value of cultivating a few close friendships. To that end, I will explore the why, what, and how of friendships in seminary.¹²

Why pursue friendships in seminary

“Seminary is dangerous.”¹³ I was taken aback the first time I read those words. Seminary is supposed to be a place of growth, learning, and spiritual formation. How could it be dangerous? The warning is against becoming overfed on theological knowledge while becoming undernourished in our heart-level affection for God.

That danger is real and perhaps familiar. Yet others are more subtle:

• Spiritual isolation
• Neglect of the local church
• Academic rivalry
• The temptation to pretend we have everything together when we are struggling

Left unchecked, these dangers can make seminary a lonely and perilous place.

So how do we guard against them? One of the most important ways is to prioritize healthy, authentic friendships during seminary. Friendship is God’s idea and God’s gift—his means of grace to help us persevere and avoid making shipwreck of our faith (1 Tim 1:19). Good friends can help preserve us from unseen spiritual threats and strengthen us to remain spiritually alive.

Easily search the Bible for key passages on friendship with Logos’s Smart Search. Start your free trial.

Proverbs speaks often about the value of wise companions. In Proverbs 13:20, we read, “Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.” These words remind us to choose our friends carefully, because they shape us profoundly—for good or for ill. Wise friends lead us toward spiritual life. Foolish friends can lead us toward spiritual harm.

Especially in the formative years of seminary, then, we should strive to be good friends and to pursue good friends, so that we might sharpen one another to the glory of God.

What good seminary friends provide

Below are four key components of friendship drawn from snapshots of friendship in Scripture. Together, they illustrate the kind of friend we should seek to be—and the kind of friends we should seek to have: The kind of friends who will help us navigate the exciting yet sometimes dangerous crosscurrents of seminary life.

1. Friends support one another

In Exodus 17:8–16, we read a vivid account of Moses interceding on a hill while Joshua was fighting against the Amalekites in a valley. This scene is often highlighted as a model of intercessory prayer, but it also provides a striking picture of friendship. Moses prays for Joshua while he is in the thick of battle—friends intercede for one another. When Moses’s arms grow weary, Aaron and Hur place a stone under him and physically hold up his hands so he can continue.

Friends step in when they see a companion struggling. Throughout seminary, there will be seasons when you need this kind of support, and seasons when you will give it. Good friends support one another.

2. Friends strengthen one another

In 1 Samuel 18–23, we see one of Scripture’s richest portraits of friendship: David and Jonathan. In chapter 23, David is weary, afraid, and hiding in the wilderness while Saul is hunting him down. Into that moment of vulnerability, verse 16 tells us “Saul’s son Jonathan went to David at Horesh and helped him find strength in God.” Jonathan does not wait for David to seek him out: He intentionally moves toward his friend. He encourages him, speaks truth, reminds him of God’s promises, and points him back to the true source of strength: God himself.

This portrait of friendship reminds us that good friends do not merely offer support. They direct us toward God and the strength found in him. Seminary will inevitably bring moments of weariness, discouragement, or spiritual dryness. Good friends help us find fresh strength in God when we need it most, lifting our eyes beyond our circumstances to the One in whom all true strength resides. Good friends strengthen one another.

3. Friends sharpen one another

Proverbs 27:17 tells us, “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.” The bright edge of our affection for God can grow dull if we approach theology in a purely academic manner. We need friends who will sharpen us spiritually, who will help keep our hearts warm, our minds alert, and our devotion vibrant.

I formed some of my most important theological convictions through hours of discussion, debate, and study with friends who pushed me back to Scripture and encouraged clarity, humility, and consistency in my thinking. Good friends sharpen one another.

4. Friends sacrificially serve one another

Jesus displayed the ultimate act of friendship through his sacrificial death for his people on the cross. In John 15:13, he declares, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” He then applies this astonishing truth to his disciples by saying, “You are my friends” (John 15:14) and again, “I have called you friends” (John 15:15). Jesus speaks of his self‑giving sacrifice as a deep expression of his love for his friends.

This means that the heart of Christian friendship is not just shared affection or shared experience, but Christlike, costly love. As those called to “walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us” (Eph 5:2), Christians are to extend that same sacrificial posture toward one another. True friends will gladly inconvenience themselves, bear one another’s burdens, and seek each other’s greatest spiritual good—even when it comes at some personal cost. Good friends serve one another.

How to pursue friendships in seminary

This can be intimidating, especially for those leaving home for the first time, so it is important to take seriously these points:

1. Intentionally create opportunities for friendships

Recognizing their importance, we should first make time to share our seminary journey with others. This will look different depending on your stage of life, but creating space for coffee breaks, meals, study sessions, or simple moments of rest and relaxation can go a long way toward initiating relationships that may deepen over time. These small, regular rhythms of shared life are the soil in which lasting friendships can grow.

2. Pursue spiritual depth with those with whom you naturally connect

This often means being the one to move the conversation beyond surface‑level topics. Share what God is teaching you through your classes, speak honestly about your struggles and encouragements, and create space to pray together. Over time, these kinds of conversations cultivate trust and foster genuine spiritual friendship.

3. Adopt an attitude of giving and receiving in your friendships

Healthy friendships are mutual. There will be seasons when you need the support and strengthening ministry of a few trusted friends, and other seasons when you will be the one offering support and sharpening to those who need it. In both roles, we learn humility, gratitude, and the joy of walking with others as we all seek to mature in Christ.

Conclusion

The friendships we make at seminary can become gifts that keep giving. Over a decade has passed since my own time at seminary, and I still have regular online calls with those few good friends. Though the years of study were temporary, the bonds forged through shared joys, trials, and prayers have endured far beyond the classroom.

These good friends were—and continue to be—a means of God’s grace. They have shaped my character, strengthened my faith, and helped me to navigate the challenges and pressures that come with pastoral ministry. Even though we are scattered across the world today, our fellowship remains strong as we continue to encourage, challenge, and pray for one another in our respective callings.

Seminary offers many gifts, but few are as enduring, steadying, or life‑giving as the gift of a few wise, godly friends. May those entering or journeying through seminary recognize this gift, pursue it intentionally, and give thanks to God for the friendships that will sustain and enrich them for years to come.

Share your thoughts

What’s the benefit of friendship during seminary? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Resources for further reflection

Iron Sharpens Iron: Friendship and the Grace of God

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How to Stay Christian in Seminary

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Becoming Friends: Worship, Justice, and the Practice of Christian Friendship

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No Greater Love: A Biblical Vision for Friendship

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Why Does Friendship Matter? (Questions for Restless Minds)

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Sacred Companions: The Gift of Spiritual Friendship Direction

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Enduring Friendship: Sticking Together in an Age of Unfriending

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Transformative Friendships: 7 Questions to Deepen Any Relationship (Church-Based Counseling)

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In Galatians 4:21–31, the Apostle Paul refers to the story of Sarah and Hagar as an allegory: Hagar corresponds to Mount Sinai and the present Jerusalem, while Sarah corresponds to the Jerusalem above. Is Paul twisting the Old Testament? Is he reading ideas into Genesis that aren’t really there?

Join host Kirk E. Miller and New Testament scholar David deSilva in this episode of What in the Word? as they explore Paul’s use of the Old Testament and how it serves as a sophisticated defense of receiving God’s promises by faith.

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Episode guest: David deSilva

David deSilva is Trustees’ Distinguished Professor of New Testament and Greek at Ashland Theological Seminary in Ashland, OH, where he has taught since 1995. He has held visiting professorships at the École Biblique et Archéologique Française de Jérusalem, Regent College in Vancouver, and Colombo Theological Seminary in Sri Lanka. He holds degrees from Princeton University, Princeton Theological Seminary, and Emory University.

He is the author of forty books, including:

• Honor, Patronage, Kinship, and Purity: Unlocking New Testament Culture (InterVarsity Academic, 2022)
• An Introduction to the New Testament: Contexts, Methods, and Ministry Formation (InterVarsity Academic, 2018)
• Introducing the Apocrypha (Baker Academic, 2018)
• A Week in the Life of Ephesus (InterVarsity Academic, 2020)
• Archaeology and the Ministry of Paul: A Visual Guide (Baker Academic, 2025)
• Archaeology and the World of Jesus: A Visual Guide (Baker Academic, 2025)
• Archaeology and the Book of Revelation: A Visual Guide (Baker Academic, 2026)

He also has commentaries on:

• Galatians (Eerdmans, 2018)
• Ephesians (Cambridge, 2022)
• Hebrews (Eerdmans, 2000)
• Jude (Baker Academic, 2012)

He has also served as director of traditional music and organist at local churches since 1984. David is married to Donna Jean Heitman deSilva, with whom he shares three adult sons.

Episode synopsis

The pastoral crisis behind Galatians 4:21–31

The churches in Galatia, which Paul and Barnabas had planted, were being influenced by rival teachers who claimed that Paul had not told them the full story. According to these teachers, faith in Christ was not enough by itself. Gentile believers also needed to take up a Torah-observant life and receive circumcision if they wanted to belong fully to the people of God.

The rival teachers’ argument seemingly had some weight. God’s promises were given to Abraham and his descendants via the Abrahamic covenant, and circumcision functioned as the entry rite into that covenant (Gen 17). Surely then, so the rival teachers reasoned, if gentiles were to receive the blessings of the covenant, they had to receive its sign: circumcision. They had to become Jewish.

Paul, however, interprets this as a direct assault on the true gospel.

1. Contrary to these rival teachers who claim Paul’s gospel is insufficient, Paul maintains that his gospel is exactly what he received, first from Christ himself and secondly as approved by the Jerusalem apostles (Gal 1–2).
2. To require circumcision and Torah observance does not complete the gospel. It distorts it. It implies that Christ’s work is insufficient and that the gift of the Spirit is not enough to make gentiles full members of God’s covenant people (Gal 3–6).

That is why the tone of Paul’s letter is so urgent. He is not engaged in an abstract theological debate. He is fighting for the freedom of his converts and for the truth of the gospel which he had delivered to them.

Why this passage perplexes and proves difficult

In Galatians 4:21–31, Paul interprets Hagar and Sarah figuratively, claiming these two women represent things not specifically mentioned in the text of Genesis 16 and 21. Paul describes his interpretation using a word many English translations translate “allegorically” (ἀλληγορέω). For many, allegory suggests an interpretive approach detached from Scripture’s actual meaning, injecting it instead with hidden symbolism. For instance, ancient interpreters like Philo of Alexandria used the Bible’s narratives, like Genesis 16, in ways that moved far from the historical and literary concerns of the text. Hijacking the text in this way strikes many as irresponsible, especially those who want to affirm the authority and clarity of Scripture.

Not only this, but Paul defends the gospel by this interpretation. If Paul’s use of the Old Testament is arbitrary—simply making it say what he wants—then it calls into question whether the gospel is exegetically defensible or if it’s only propped up by illegitimate appeals.

What Paul means by “allegorically”

David deSilva clarifies: We shouldn’t load the Greek word ἀλληγορέω with everything we might associate with the word “allegory” based now on two millennia of allegorical readings of Scripture. At its most basic level, the word means that Paul takes the Genesis account as communicating something beyond a strict recounting of the events themselves. Paul reads the Genesis account figuratively, where Sarah and Hagar are understood to represent other things (e.g., the Mosaic covenant, which did not even exist in Hagar’s time). But to make this move, Paul goes beyond a “literal,” surface-level description of the account.

Importantly, Paul’s reading does not abandon the interests of the Genesis narrative though. Paul’s reading remains concerned with themes like covenant promises, offspring, and inheritance.

How Galatians earlier prepares for Paul’s allegory

Paul’s figurative application of Genesis 16 and 21 comes as the culmination of an argument he had already begun developing earlier in the letter.

The Abrahamic covenant and the Mosaic covenant must be distinguished. The law, which came 430 years after the promise, cannot nullify that earlier promise. Thus, inheritance of God’s blessing has always depended on God’s promise, not on what could be acquired by the flesh. The law was never intended to be the basis for receiving the inheritance (Gal 3:15–18).

Rather, the law had an intentionally temporary function: God gave it as a pedagogue leading up to Christ’s arrival (Gal 3:19–24; 4:1–7).

In fact, those who rely on Torah observance, far from receiving the inheritance, receive God’s curse. Those who fail to keep God’s law are cursed, and no one is able to keep it (Gal 3:10–14).

Thus, Abraham’s true children, the heirs of the promises made to him, are identified not by circumcision—not by flesh—but by faith. Those who share Abraham’s trust are his true offspring (Gal 3:7–9, 25–29).

So by the time Paul reaches Galatians 4:21–31, he has already laid the theological groundwork for this figurative application of Genesis 16 and 21. Paul’s “allegory” is not the basis of his argument so much as a climactic, homiletical expression of it.

Ishmael and Isaac represent two ways of pursuing the promise

Paul reads Sarah and Hagar and their production of offspring in Genesis 16 and 21 as representing two different covenantal ways of relating to God.

God’s redemptive promise to Abraham included the promise that God would multiply Abraham greatly and bless the world through Abraham’s offspring (Gen 12:1–3; 15:1–6). Thus, Abraham and Sarah’s childlessness was not merely a matter of an elderly couple’s infertility but a direct challenge to the fulfillment of God’s promise.

Paul appeals to Genesis 16 and 21 to contrast the means of Ishmael’s and Isaac’s births.

• Abraham and Sarah, faced with God’s not-yet-fulfilled promise, tried to secure the promised offspring by their own efforts. Hagar would step in as Sarah’s surrogate. In that sense, Ishmael was born “according to the flesh.” His birth represents a human attempt to bring about God’s purposes through fleshly means.
• Isaac’s birth, by contrast, came through God’s supernatural intervention. Sarah was barren, and she and Abraham were well beyond any natural age for childbearing. Isaac’s existence depended entirely on divine power and promise, not human ability. In that sense, Isaac was born “according to promise.” His birth represents receiving God’s promise through trust.

As Paul reads Genesis 16 and 21, then, he makes his case from this principle genuinely present in the narrative of Genesis itself. He identifies two ways of attempting to secure God’s promise blessing:

1. through fleshly efforts, or
2. through trust in God’s promise.

So too, Paul observes, the offspring of the slave woman (Hagar) are born into slavery, and thus not heirs of the promise, whereas the offspring of the free woman (Sarah) are full children and heirs of the inheritance (children of the promise).

The figural correspondences: covenants and their children

Paul then extrapolates these exegetically derived principles from Genesis and maps them onto other corresponding realities.

Paul compares the birth of Ishmael (“according to the flesh”) to those who rely on Sinai’s law-covenant as a means of attaining the promises. This stands in contrast to the principle behind Isaac’s birth, and with it the Abrahamic covenant, of receiving God’s promises purely by faith.

Paul then makes a shocking move: While the rival teachers certainly would have seen themselves as descendants of Sarah, the matriarch of the Jewish people, Paul maintains that those who rely on Torah observance and circumcision are actually (spiritually speaking) children of Hagar! Hagar corresponds to that covenant that bears children for slavery: Sinai. The path which these rival teachers assumed led to inheritance corresponds, it turns out, to slavery!

Therefore, Paul concludes, to submit to the law as the basis of covenant identity is not a step forward into fuller obedience. It is a step backward into slavery. As Paul has argued earlier, the law supervised God’s people for a time, but that time has ended with the coming of Christ. Those who cling to the Mosaic covenant now that Christ has come are not living in the freedom of God’s final redemptive act.

The Jerusalem above and Paul’s use of Isaiah 54:1

So too the Jerusalem in Paul’s day, as the center of Torah-based religion, corresponds to Hagar and her slavery. In contrast, Sarah’s offspring make up the citizenry of “the Jerusalem above.”

Paul reinforces this point by quoting Isaiah 54:1, a prophecy addressed to Jerusalem depicting a barren woman who will one day have many children. According to Paul, as the gospel goes to the nations, the eschatological Jerusalem receives countless new children. The desolate one is becoming abundantly fruitful.

David deSilva also observes how Isaiah 54:1 immediately follows the famous passage about the suffering servant in Isaiah 53. This likely links the expansion of God’s people among the nations to the saving work of YHWH’s servant. The new family of God is created through the death and resurrection of Christ.

Use the Important Passages section in Logos’s Guides to locate related texts to the one you’re studying. Start a free trial of Logos today.

The practical application of Paul’s allegory

Paul instructs the Galatians to take the words that Sarah spoke to Abraham, “Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman” (Gal 4:30), and apply them to these false teachers. They must reject the rival teachers’ message because it threatens to undermine their inheritance in Christ.

Paul wants believers to experience the freedom they have in the Spirit, refusing to adopt a rule-based approach to following Christ. At the same time, Paul insists that this freedom ought not lead to unrighteousness, but to a holiness that arises from the Spirit’s work within us (see Gal 5:13–26).

Advice for teaching and preaching this passage

Kirk E. Miller urges preachers not to rush straight to Paul’s conclusions without helping hearers understand the exegetical logic behind them. If people only hear that Hagar equals Sinai and Sarah equals the Jerusalem above, but fail to understand how Paul arrives there, then the passage’s message will prove less compelling. Instead, teachers should explain the Genesis narrative and show how Paul is drawing his conclusions from it.

David adds that teachers don’t need to use the word “allegory” when preaching this passage. What matters most is helping people see the two contrasting ways of relating to God.

David also recommends teaching the passage in connection with the larger flow of Galatians (lectio continua). Paul’s argument in 4:21–31 carries much more force when readers have already absorbed Paul’s earlier claims about Abraham, promise, law, and inheritance. Approached in context, Galatians 4:21–31 functions less like an isolated proof text and more like a powerful flourish at the climax of Paul’s case.

Logos values thoughtful and engaging discussions on important biblical topics. However, the views and interpretations presented in this episode are those of the individuals speaking and do not necessarily reflect the official position of Logos. We recognize that Christians may hold different perspectives on this passage, and we welcome diverse engagement and respectful dialogue.

Let us know what you think

How do you understand Paul’s use of Genesis? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

David deSilva’s recommended resources on Galatians

The Letter to the Galatians (New International Commentary on the New Testament | NICNT)

Regular price: $61.99

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The Epistle to the Galatians (Black’s New Testament Commentary | BNTC)

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Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians (Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture | ACCS)

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Galatians (The Story of God Bible Commentary | SGBC)

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Galatians (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament | BECNT)

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Galatians through the Centuries (Blackwell Bible Commentaries | BBC)

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Since the release of the annual report of the Association of Theological Schools (ATS), I’ve been reflecting on the present state and future prospects of theological education. I noted three trends in theological education, along with some observations about why some schools are growing.

One critical-yet-frequently-overlooked trait of growing seminaries is that they tend to combine flexible delivery methods with a missionally oriented approach to education, i.e., one shaped by the actual ministry needs of the students. Let’s explore this further.

Flexible modes of delivery

It’s no secret that seminaries (and all schools) provide education in drastically different ways than they used to. Online education is booming, and growing seminaries often have significant online enrollment.

The explosion of online education (over the last fifteen years, especially) is one of the most significant shifts in the history of education, not to mention seminary training. To what extent a program is online (and which programs) varies widely. Some provide fully online programs while others offer hybrid options. Many provide online coursework paired with intensives, regional learning hubs, or modular cohort programs, like Biola’s new Talbot Embedded initiative. These approaches allow students to remain embedded in ministry while receiving theological training.

Online education presents a host of opportunities and challenges. Many students who apply for fully online programs find that relationships with fellow students and faculty develop much more slowly than for those in other formats. For example, students in hybrid programs can have intensives or other in-person meetings to aid in relational cohesion and enrichment of the learning experience.

But whatever a school’s approach to online education, one thing is clear: Online education is not going away any time soon. And with the growing influence of artificial intelligence on the learning process, schools will need to continue to prioritize innovation in this area while retaining academic rigor.

Join Ed Stetzer for an upcoming series presented by Logos on trends in theological education. Get access to exclusive interviews with institutional leaders to learn how to “future-proof” Christian higher ed.

Leaning into the moment

The decline of some schools has been accelerated by resistance to online education. Leaders of these schools explain that when faculty have been resistant and slow to adapt—even when students want to market the online option—the decline came quickly. Talbot’s own late entry into online theological education hurt us. Peer institutions have reported the same, with some citing delayed adoption of online models as a key reason they experienced some decline. Simply put, online education has been the growth engine for most schools, and almost all growing schools have such programs. 

As a long-time SBC “insider,” my mind goes to their large network of seminaries as an example. Some SBC seminary leaders vehemently said they would never do online education. (It’s not hard to find these statements online). Such modes of education were sometimes considered deficient for the kind of serious training ministry leaders need. But after seeing the market shift, the need to pivot became clear to many of these leaders.

And to their credit, they did pivot—and have seen tremendous growth in many cases! Midwestern even announced an online PhD. (I look forward to speaking with Midwestern’s President Jason Allen about their remarkable growth in our upcoming series on the future of higher education.) Observe, for instance, the ten-year growth pattern for the largest schools.

With all of that said, there’s a danger here that needs to be named. When we try to make a program cheap, fast, and accessible by any means necessary, we’ve entered a “race to the bottom.” Accessibility is good. Affordability is good. But if the only competitive advantage a school offers is convenience, the school has lost its way.

Formation requires more than information transfer. The seminaries that are growing through online delivery are doing so because they’ve figured out how to maintain relational depth, mentoring, and spiritual formation even in a digital environment. Those that treat online as merely a cost-saving measure will eventually find themselves in trouble.

From credentialing to equipping

But online learning isn’t the only change in flexible offerings. Instead of focusing primarily on ministry credentialing, many seminaries emphasize equipping students for ministry, even where those students don’t have a vocational ministry objective. Instead of come get a degree so you can be ordained, growing seminaries invite prospective students to come be equipped for leadership and ministry in the mission of God.

That missional framing resonates with church planters, missionaries, marketplace leaders, bivocational pastors, and local church lay persons who are simply looking to deepen their knowledge of the faith. It also explains the growth of programs in areas such as ministry leadership, counseling, apologetics, church planting, and spiritual formation. Training pastors remains a key part of the seminary’s role, but these varied programs often reach a broader range of students than just future pastors.

Does theological education still matter? Dr. Albert Mohler makes the case on Logos Live.

To meet these needs, seminaries have launched non-formal educational pathways, such as certificate programs and on-demand learning. These provide students opportunities for development, even when a full degree isn’t desired. Dallas Theological Seminary stands out as one compelling example among many. It’s the largest non-denominational seminary in the world, yet its reach extends well beyond its accredited education. DTS Global Institute offers free courses to over a million learners worldwide, making it the leading program of its kind and a natural role model for the rest of us.

These changes tend to be led by visionary leaders who meet the moment. Rather than merely maintaining inherited structures, these leaders demonstrate a willingness to stretch boundaries and consider possibilities. They think missionally and act entrepreneurially. From experimenting with new programs to pursuing creative partnerships, they’re reimagining how theological education can best serve the church in the present moment. And—whether training pastors for the Great Commission, equipping church planters, recovering historic Christian theology, or preparing Christian leaders for cultural engagement—they tell stories that draw students in.

Such innovation is essential where many academic institutions may otherwise struggle. Those who prioritize meeting the moment, though, will likely find fruit.

The added benefit is often a broader vision that theological education is for everyone, not just those preparing for vocational ministry. That vision shapes recruitment, marketing, donor engagement, and institutional strategy.

The purpose of theological education

Keeping an institution’s mission front and center catalyzes its leadership, positioning them to help churches grow in effectiveness. (For example, our Talbot Lead the Way tour has encouraged thousands and shown how Talbot can be a resource for those looking to dig even deeper.) When the purpose of theological education is equipping rather than mere credentialing, educational institutions can pursue flexible faithfulness rather than rigid patterns from a previous era.

At Talbot, for instance, we’re trying to balance the best of flexible, missionally oriented approaches to education with robust, time-tested, traditional forms. And it seems to be working, as Talbot is the fastest-growing seminary in terms of Full-Time Equivalent (FTE) enrollment among similar institutions.¹⁴

Keeping the “why” front and center helps schools remain rooted in the things that should never change, while adapting when needed. We need to meet the moment, yet the moment we’re in doesn’t change the mission we’re on.

Moving forward together

There are plenty of things to be concerned about with the current state of theological education, but there are plenty of hopeful things happening, too. Many of those hopeful things are found in schools that are remaining faithful to the gospel and the mission while also leaning into the future.

And none of this happens in isolation. As someone relatively new to theological education, I’m personally indebted to many of them. At Wheaton, I pointed my team to Michael Duduit and the Clamp Divinity School at Anderson University as a model. At Talbot, it’s been Dallas and Asbury, specifically their former president, Tim Tennent, who helped us develop Talbot Embedded. Mark Yarbrough, Jason Allen, and David Dockery have all provided me counsel along the way. From Asbury to Westminster, we are, in the truest sense, in this together—partners in the gospel. I celebrate the important work happening across these institutions.

Together, we see that it is possible to lead well while also providing educational excellence. We don’t need to race to the bottom of high-convenience, low-cost, and (too often) lower-value options. Instead, we can remain both faithful and fruitful, trusting God and stewarding what he has entrusted to us. 

Share your thoughts

What does the future of theological education look like? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Related content

• 3 Pivotal Trends in Theological Education: The 2026 ATS Report
• Why Some Seminaries Grow While Others Don’t: 3 Key Traits
• The Importance of Theological Education | Albert Mohler
• 3 Ways This Seminary Embeds Its Core Values in Daily Life
• Developing a Teaching Philosophy: A Guide for Theological Educators

Resources for further reflection

Ecologies of Faith in a Digital Age: Spiritual Growth through Online Education

Regular price: $23.99

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Excellence in Online Education: Creating a Christian Community on Mission

Regular price: $14.99

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Faith, Life, and Learning Online: Promoting Mission Across Learning Modalities

Regular price: $13.75

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Theological Education: Principles and Practices of a Competency-Based Approach

Regular price: $21.99

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Paul’s letter to the Galatians is one of the treasures of the Christian church. Martin Luther likened his affection to this epistle to his love for his wife.¹⁵ The letter played an outsized importance in the writings of the Protestant Reformers as they sought to reform the church according to Scripture. Galatians continues to resonate with Christian readers today in its passionate plea for the gospel of grace.

This letter richly rewards careful attention. To that end, this article will consider

1. Introductory elements of Galatians. What do we know about its author, its audience, and the circumstances of its composition? What were Paul’s aims for writing this letter in the way that he did?
2. The theology and themes of Galatians. We will reflect on the two great concerns of Galatians: (1) Paul’s defense of his apostleship, and (2) Paul’s defense of the gospel.
3. The abiding relevance of Galatians. Galatians remains as relevant to the church today as it did for the churches in Galatia two thousand years ago. It sends us back to biblical truths that serve as the foundation of the Christian life. If we want to live the Christian life well, then we need to hear what Paul has to say to the Galatians.

An overview of Galatians

Audience

The author of this letter is the Apostle Paul (Gal 1:1), and he is writing to “the churches of Galatia” (Gal 1:2). Galatia in antiquity was located in Asia Minor (today Turkey). Commentators debate whether these churches were located on the south-central coast of Asia Minor or farther north, in the interior.¹⁶ It seems likelier that these churches were located in the urban centers of the coast, where we know that there were sizable Jewish communities, and where we know Paul ministered early in his missionary career (see Acts 13:13–14:28).

It was through Paul that these churches were founded (see Gal 4:12–20). He reflects with fondness on the way in which they received his ministry in spite of his evident physical weakness (see Gal 4:13–14).

These churches were largely comprised of gentiles, that is, non-Jewish believers (Gal 4:8–9), a point confirmed by the fact that Paul is writing this letter to persuade them not to receive circumcision.

Date

It is difficult to say for certain when Paul wrote this letter. If the meeting in Jerusalem that Paul describes in Galatians 2:1–10 is the meeting that Luke describes in Acts 15:1–29 (the so-called Jerusalem Council) then Paul wrote this letter in the latter part of his apostolic travels.¹⁷

Jump into your study of Galatians with Logos’s Factbook. Start a free trial.

Occasion

More important to the letter’s message—and contested among some modern interpreters—are the specific details relating to the controversy that occasioned this letter.

Paul has a definite set of opponents in mind, although they lie in the shadows of the letter. The opponents appear to have come into the church from the outside. Paul distinguishes them from the Galatians (e.g., Gal 4:17). They have had a destabilizing effect on the church. They “trouble” (Gal 1:7; 5:10) and “unsettle” the church (Gal 5:12). Their ministry is oriented not toward Christ but toward themselves (Gal 4:17; 6:13). In fact, the Galatians’ reception of their ministry has prompted the apostle to say to them, “you are severed from Christ … You have fallen away from grace” (Gal 5:4).

We do not have transcripts of these opponents’ sermons or writings. But we can faithfully reconstruct their teaching through a careful reading of Paul’s letter. Paul’s opponents have come to Galatia in order to impose the totality of the Mosaic law upon the churches. They are urging these believers to adopt a Jewish lifestyle (cf. Gal 2:14; 4:10) in order to secure blessing from God. In particular, they are trying to persuade the Galatians to take the first step in this direction, which is to receive circumcision (Gal 5:2). They appear to have argued that circumcision was a standing biblical requirement: God instituted it for Abraham and his offspring as an “everlasting” ordinance (Gen 17:13). The path to Abrahamic blessing, they argued, required circumcision. Refusal to be circumcised meant that one was a covenant breaker and under the curse of God. From this perspective, Paul’s insistence that the Galatians not receive circumcision struck at the heart of the Old Testament’s teaching.

Paul’s opponents also claimed for themselves some connection with the apostles in Jerusalem. The opponents, in turn, represented Paul as someone whose authority and message were derived from the Jerusalem apostles, but whose message had fundamentally departed from Jerusalem orthodoxy. The opponents presented themselves in Galatia to set the record straight. Paul, then, was being attacked on two fronts. His authority and credentials as an apostle were being brought under a cloud of suspicion, and his gospel was being characterized as unorthodox, maverick, and dangerous.

As for the Galatians themselves, they had fallen under the spell of Paul’s opponents (Gal 3:1). But while Paul viewed the situation in Galatia as dire, he did not view it as hopeless. The Galatians were recoverable. As Paul tells them, “I have confidence in the Lord that you will take no other view” (Gal 5:10).

This letter is, then, an exercise in persuasion. Paul is appealing to their knowledge of the gospel that he had earlier preached to them. He is also appealing to the faith in Christ that they had professed when they had embraced that gospel.

The message of Galatians

How, then, does Paul set out to persuade the Galatians to return to the gospel of grace?

1. In the first two chapters, Paul primarily defends his credentials as an apostle of Christ.
2. In the remaining four chapters, Paul primarily defends his gospel.

We will look at each in turn.

A defense of Paul’s apostleship (Gal 1:1–2:14)

In the first two chapters of Galatians, Paul’s primary concern is to defend his apostleship as having come directly and immediately from God. He states this concern in the letter’s opening words: “Paul, an apostle—not from men nor through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead” (Gal 1:1). Paul insists in Galatians 1:11–12 that the gospel he brought to the Galatians was given to him by “revelation of Jesus Christ” (Gal 1:12). He did not “receive it from any man, nor was [he] taught it” (Gal 1:12). Paul goes on to show that he did not receive the gospel from his early training in Judaism (Gal 1:13–14), but he received it from Christ, who converted him and called him on the road to Damascus to preach the gospel to the gentiles (Gal 1:15–16).

After his conversion and call, Paul details his comings and goings, particularly among the Jerusalem apostles (Gal 1:17–2:10). His goal here is twofold:

1. Paul wants to show that he did not receive his gospel from these other apostles.
2. He wants to show that he was not laboring at cross purposes with his apostolic colleagues.

On the one hand, these “pillars … added nothing to me” (Gal 2:9, 6). On the other hand, all of the apostles warmly extended to one another the “right hand of fellowship,” each ministering the same gospel within different God-assigned spheres (Gal 2:9). The great confrontation between Paul and Peter in Antioch (Gal 2:11–14) illustrates the point. When the “truth of the gospel” (Gal 2:14) was at stake, Paul was willing to call out even the Apostle Peter in the presence of the church.

What are the main themes of Galatians? Find resources and reliable answers with Logos’s Study Assistant. Start your free trial.

A defense of Paul’s gospel (Gal 2:15–6:18)

In Galatians 2:15–21, Paul advances the thesis of the letter. Having established his apostolic credentials—his apostleship and his gospel have come directly from God—Paul is now prepared to expound and to defend the gospel. At the heart of the gospel is justification by faith alone: A sinner is counted righteous solely on the basis of the righteousness of Christ, imputed to the sinner, and received by faith alone. What Paul calls “works of the law”—deeds done in keeping with the requirements of the Mosaic law—play no part in the sinner’s justifying righteousness. Paul here no less testifies to the believer’s consequent new life in Christ. She is united with Christ in his death and resurrection (Gal 2:19, 20). The Christian life is the life of faith, lived in grateful response to “the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20).

In the next section of the letter (i.e., Gal 3:1–4:7), Paul presents three sets of arguments to defend and to explain these claims. First, he appeals to the experience of the Galatians (Gal 3:1–5). When the gospel first came to them, they received it and its blessings by faith and not by works of the law (Gal 3:2, 5).

Second, he appeals to the testimony of Scripture (Gal 3:6–14). The blessings that God promised to Abraham are the blessings that we have received in Christ. As Abraham received those blessings by faith, we do also (Gal 3:9). In fact, the Mosaic law itself testifies that the one who tries to keep its commandments for justifying righteousness will find only cursing (Gal 3:10). But Christ has “redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us,” and he has delivered to us the “blessing of Abraham,” that is, the Holy Spirit (Gal 3:13, 14).

Third, Paul appeals to the various covenants that God made with his people(Gal 3:15–4:7). The Mosaic covenant was never intended to nullify or alter the Abrahamic covenant (Gal 3:15–18). Its purpose was to prepare sinners for the coming of Jesus Christ. Now that Christ has come, the Mosaic covenant is no longer operative (Gal 3:19–29). Under the new covenant, we are in a better place than believers were under the Mosaic covenant: They were as sons who had not yet come into their inheritance, whereas we are now both “son[s]” and “heir[s] through God” (Gal 4:7).

Paul then makes a series of appeals to the Galatians (Gal 4:8–31). He rebukes them for their return to spiritual slavery (Gal 4:8–11). He reminds them of their previous affection for him (and of his affection for them) and their reception of the gospel that he first preached to them (Gal 4:12–20). In the final section (Gal 4:21–31), he stresses to the “children of promise” (Gal 4:28) that they must have nothing to do with spiritual enslavers.

The last two chapters of the book (Gal 5:1–6:18) take up the second half of the thesis: the justified believer’s new life in Christ. In brief, this life is the life of freedom (Gal 5:1, 13), and it is life lived in the Spirit (the “Spirit of his Son” whom God the Father has “sent … into our hearts” [Gal 4:6]). Thus, we “walk by the Spirit” (Gal 5:16), take up the “desires of the Spirit” (Gal 5:17), are “led by the Spirit” (Gal 5:18), bear the “fruit of the Spirit” (Gal 5:22), “live by the Spirit,” “keep in step with the Spirit” (Gal 5:25), and “sow to the Spirit” (Gal 6:8).

This life is the life of “faith working by love” (Gal 5:6), a love that commits itself to “serve one another” (Gal 5:13; cf. 6:10). And, since love is the fulfillment of the law (Gal 5:14), believers gladly take up the law’s moral demands (Gal 6:2). We do not obey the law in order to be justified. But we gladly and necessarily obey the law as those who have already been justified.

Paul concludes the letter (Gal 6:11–18) by setting a stark choice before the Galatians. They may choose either circumcision or the cross, but they may not have both (Gal 6:11–14). Only the cross brings “a new creation,” “peace and mercy,” and “grace” (Gal 6:15, 16, 18).

How does Paul’s “allegory” of Sarah and Hagar advance his argument in Galatians? David deSilva joins to discuss on What in the Word?

The significance of Galatians

We conclude with two aspects of Paul’s teaching in Galatians that speak to the church today.

1. The authority of the gospel

The gospel carries authority as a message that has been directly revealed from God. It has been brought to the church by apostles called and commissioned by Christ. It is the same gospel that God’s people received and believed from the Old Testament.

As in Galatia, so today, there are any number of plausible imitations that rival the genuine gospel for our attention and affection. In saying yes to the Bible’s gospel of grace, we necessarily say no to any and every other “different gospel” (Gal 1:6).

2. The sufficiency of the gospel

The gospel brings us Christ, crucified and raised from the dead for the sinner’s salvation. The righteousness of Christ that justifies the sinner is complete, sufficient, and admits of no additions (and certainly not any good works that we might do). The gospel is therefore a message of grace. To add (or take away) from the gospel is to “nullify the grace of God” (Gal 2:21).

Only the gospel, furthermore, gives us the resources to live in a way that is pleasing to God. We are united to Christ, supplied by the Spirit, and granted the “faith that works by love” (Gal 5:6). Our leading motive to living this life is not dread of judgment but gratitude to the Savior who has loved us and given himself for us on the cross.

Conclusion

Doctrine matters, Paul tells the Galatians. What we believe about Christ and the gospel has wide-ranging implications for our life and the life of the church.

The passionate persuasion of this letter has gripped the minds and hearts of Christians throughout the history of the church for the simple reason that the good news is truly good news!

Share your thoughts

How do you interpret Galatians? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Guy Waters’s suggested resources for studying Galatians

• Look for Guy Waters’s commentary on Galatians in the Reformed Exegetical and Theological Commentary on Scripture series, published by Crossway.

Galatians (The Lectio Continua Expository Commentary | LCEC)

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The Message of Galatians (The Bible Speaks Today | BST)

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Galatians (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament | BECNT)

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Galatians (Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament | ZECNT)

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A Biblical-Theological Introduction to the New Testament: The Gospel Realized

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Many pastors quietly avoid the imprecatory psalms. It’s understandable. We often don’t know what to do with them. Maybe we’ve even seen them weaponized.

But our avoidance is problematic. Paul’s charge is unambiguous: “Preach the Word” (2 Tim 4:2)—all of it, since “all Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable” (2 Tim 3:16–17; emphasis added). This includes the Psalms, even the imprecatory psalms.

So how do we preach without dodging the imprecatory psalms or weaponizing them?

What are imprecatory psalms?

Imprecatory psalms (from the Latin imprecatio) are those psalms that ask God to judge the wicked and vindicate his people.¹⁸

Better yet, we should speak of imprecations in the Psalms instead of “imprecatory psalms,” since imprecations are really one aspect within a broader psalm. Strictly speaking, we’re often dealing with imprecations within laments.

Filter the psalms by type using Logos’s Psalms Explorer to locate imprecatory psalms. Start your free trial.

Should we really pray and preach the imprecatory psalms?

We need not read the Psalms for long before we encounter an imprecation.

• Psalm 1 describes the contrast between the “blessed” and the “wicked” (Ps 1:1).
• Psalm 2 quotes the Lord saying, “You shall break them with a rod of iron, and dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel” (Ps 2:9).
• In Psalm 3, David prays, “Arise, O Lord! Save me, O my God! For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked” (Ps 3:7; emphasis mine).

What did Jesus and the apostles do with the imprecatory psalms? They kept them. They didn’t try to hide them or edit them from Israel’s prayer book.

Neither should we.

The New Testament assumes the Psalms are still the church’s Scripture and a fitting vocabulary for the people of God. The New Testament quotes Old Testament imprecations (e.g., Acts 1:20; cf. Pss 69:25; 109:8) and includes its own imprecatory prayers, such as the martyrs’ cry for justice in Revelation 6:10. Jesus himself used imprecations against the religious establishment of the scribes and Pharisees, pronouncing “woe” upon them (Matt 23). Even his actions were based on imprecatory psalms. For example, after cleansing the temple, John tells us that Christ’s “disciples remembered that it was written: ‘zeal for your house has consumed me’” (John 2:17; cf. Ps 69:9). The original line comes in the context of imprecations: “Pour out your indignation upon them, and let your burning anger overtake them” (Ps 69:24).

Imprecations in the Psalms are not an embarrassment to be managed. They are part of the Scriptures that “bear witness” to “the things concerning” Jesus (John 5:39; Luke 24:27; 24:44). If these prayers make us uncomfortable, that discomfort is no reason to avoid or edit them—it’s a reason to learn how to preach them. As Elizabeth Achtemeier said, “If we have some problem with a passage in the Old Testament, it is not the Bible’s problem. It is ours.”¹⁹ The question is not whether Christians may pray for God’s justice, but how.

Are imprecatory psalms compatible with loving our enemies?

But are the imprecatory psalms compatible with Jesus’s teaching to love our enemies (Matt 5:44; cf. Lev 19:18)?

Some, such as C. S. Lewis, have argued that imprecatory psalms should not be used by Christians. Lewis called them “terrible,” “contemptible,” and full of “vindictive hatred” that is “festering, gloating, undisguised.”²⁰

Yet, as we’ll see, love of enemies and prayer for judgment aren’t incompatible if that judgment is entrusted to God rather than seized by us. Christians refuse personal vengeance (Rom 12:19) while still pleading for God to act justly. This appeal is further shaped by the cross (where mercy is offered) and a view to the final judgment (where evil is answered).

It’s not “sub-Christian” to pray imprecations. It’s possible to love our enemies while also praying for justice.

Why did God give imprecatory psalms?

To aid us as we preach these psalms, allow me to survey some overarching theological reasons why God gave them to us.

1. They hand vengeance to God

Importantly, the psalm’s imprecations are not sinners’ plans to take justice into their own hands. Rather, they are prayers that enable sufferers to hand vengeance over to our just and righteous God.

As Paul said, citing Deuteronomy, “Repay no one evil for evil … never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord’” (Rom 12:17, 19; cf. Deut 32:35). As well, in heaven, the martyrs and saints cry out, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” (Rev 6:10).

2. They teach the church to long for the kingdom

Imprecations are prayers that enable God’s people to express longing for the full coming of the kingdom.

We live in a fallen, futile, and frustrated world (Gen 3:14–19; Rom 8:18–24). Imprecations recognize that the world as it was intended to be is not the world we live in.

They give us graphic expressions of the longing entailed in the second petition of the Lord’s Prayer: “Your kingdom come.” That’s an implied imprecation. It’s a plea for the manifestation of God’s kingdom on earth—that believers would reflect its character, sinners would be drawn into it, but also that its enemies would be opposed by its king.

Without these prayers of imprecation, we lose Scripture’s authorized language for justice, lament, and hope in a world that is not yet set right.

3. They form the whole person before God

The Psalms are a complete guide for spiritual life. Athanasius (AD 296–373) said, “I believe that the whole of human existence, both the dispositions of the soul and the movements of the thoughts, have been measured out and encompassed in those very words of the Psalter.”²¹ John Calvin called the Psalms “an anatomy of all the parts of the soul,” for, as he said, “there is not an emotion of which any one can be conscious that is not here represented as in a mirror.”²²

So the Psalms’s imprecations enable God’s people to exercise all of their affections, emotions, and passions in relating with God. If we didn’t have these example prayers that asked God to be active in justice, bringing his kingdom, our spirituality would reduce him to “a spectator uninterested in this world.”²³ As Trevor Laurence writes, “The psalms of wrath are not merely a permissible but indeed a necessary element in the church’s communion with God, prayers that carry an irreplaceable capacity to shape the body of Christ for healing, virtue, and witness in a world gone wrong.”²⁴

How should one preach imprecatory psalms?

With this said, how should one preach the imprecatory psalms responsibly, helping your congregation pray these difficult psalms without weaponizing them?

Let me offer some advice, using Psalm 137 as an example.

1. Name the offense

Start by telling the truth about the evil the psalm addresses. Don’t sanitize, sensationalize, or soften the text to make it “preachable.”

Psalm 137 locates the Lord’s people “by the waters of Babylon,” weeping in their exile (Ps 137:1–2). Jerusalem has fallen, and they’ve been carried off. Now, in cruel mockery of the very worship they destroyed, their captors demand, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” (Ps 137:3). Psalm 137’s imprecation is not a free-floating curse. This context helps us to hear it as a cry from the ashes.

Psalm 137 does not blush to name the Babylonians’ persecution as imperial oppression, humiliation, and desecration. This is not petty irritation or a gripe against one’s neighbor, but the voice of God’s people crushed by empire, cleaving to covenant identity, and calling for God’s justice and faithfulness. Preach this soberly. Let the text tell the truth about grief under tyranny.

2. Clarify the target

Psalm 137 is not a template for venting personal annoyances. It targets violent, covenant-destroying evil: Babylon’s brutality and the Edomites who complicitly cheered it on (Ps 137:7–8). This is the kind of wickedness that preys upon the weak and desecrates what is holy. It is satanic and sinful.

Make this concrete in the sermon. Tell your people what these texts are for: bringing real evil before the Judge of all the earth. Then make clear what these texts are not for: baptizing resentment, dehumanizing opponents, or settling private scores as “holy war.”

3. Distinguish prayer from retaliation

This brings us to the psalm’s most shocking statement: the call to repay Babylon by “dashing” its little ones “against the rock” (Ps 137:8–9).

Explain to your people what kind of speech this is. It is not a mandate or license for personal retaliation or vigilantism. It is lament. It is a prayer that hands the case to God: “Lord, you see what evil has done. Do not let it stand.”

This distinction is vital: Vengeance belongs to God, not to the worshiper. If your people leave with a sense of license to fantasize about retaliation, you’ve mishandled the psalm. If they leave having been called to entrust justice to God—even while they feel morally outraged by the world—you’ve preached the text faithfully. Imprecatory psalms do not teach us how to hate. They teach us how to lament when evil feels unbeatable.

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4. Preach in light of Christ

Psalm 137 must be read in the shadow of Christ’s cross and in the light of his coming judgment. Christ-centered preaching does not erase the horror. It reframes it.

To that end, read the imprecations in light of the following:

1. Christ is the righteous sufferer. Jesus knows exile-like grief, public mockery, and violent injustice. Psalm 137 gives language for those righteous by faith in him yet are crushed by the world and cannot “sing” on command. In him, the church can lament honestly without sinning in hatred.
2. Christ is the cursed one. The psalm’s demand for justice presses us toward the gospel. If God is truly just, none of us can stand on our own. Yet Christ bears the curse for repentant enemies—including us. That keeps the preacher from gloating and the congregation from self-righteous fury.
3. Christ is the coming Judge. The psalm’s longing for wrongs to be set right is ultimately eschatological. Christ will judge the nations and finally end the cycle of predation and tears. So, we can plead for justice now while refusing to become agents of vengeance ourselves.

This threefold frame is how you place justice, mercy, and hope in the same sermon without dodging Psalm 137’s edge or weaponizing it.

When we preach the imprecatory psalms, then, we are preaching about Jesus. How? Jesus is the embodiment of the imprecations. Christ is the righteous sufferer who can pray these words without sin, the Mediator who bears the curse his people deserve, and the coming Judge who will set all things right.

5. Explain what we learn from these psalms

In union with him, the church learns to pray for justice with humility, repentance, and hope—never with self-righteous rage.²⁵

1. Rather than taking vengeance in our own hands, we pray that Christ as Judge will set all things right. We don’t pray against our private enemies for personal vengeance. We pray for divine justice.
2. Since what we preach about are descriptions of what truly awaits impenitent sinners, we tremble as we consider God’s judgments against sin.²⁶
3. As we pray for God’s justice, we ask for both his mercy and judgment, either by rescuing the evildoer from sin through repentance or by stopping their schemes.
4. We learn to resist the temptations which habitually arise within our hearts in response to the prosperity of the wicked and the affliction of the godly.
5. We direct our prayers against Satan and the spiritual forces that war against us, all of which seek to desecrate our earthly temples by leading us to unfaithfulness.
6. We even pray these imprecations against our own sins, asking God to be ruthless in purging our hearts of all evil and temptation.
7. Finally, we look for God to be glorified and his church vindicated in his judgments against its enemies: the world, the flesh, and Satan.

Conclusion

Almost every psalm speaks of the spiritual warfare between the church and the world, the righteous and the unrighteous, and of all the sufferings the church goes through in this life.

Through the “vale of tears” (Heidelberg Catechism Q&A 27) of this present life, may the rays of eternity’s light inspire us to believe in, pray for, and preach the ultimate triumph of God’s cause.

Share your thoughts

How should we preach the imprecatory psalms? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Resources for further study

Commentary on the Book of Psalms (5 Vols.)

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War Psalms of the Prince of Peace: Lessons from the Imprecatory Psalms, 2nd ed.

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The Psalms as Christian Lament: A Historical Commentary

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Imprecations in the Psalms: Love for Enemies in Hard Places

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How to Read and Understand the Psalms

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The Psalter Reclaimed: Praying and Praising with the Psalms

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Preaching Hard Texts of the Old Testament

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In this episode of Logos Live, Kirk E. Miller speaks with Dr. R. Albert Mohler Jr. about the purpose, necessity, and enduring value of theological education.

Their conversation centers on a basic but increasingly important question: Why does the church still need seminaries? Along the way, Dr. Mohler reflects on the relationship between theological education and the local church, the dangers of neglecting doctrinal formation, the kind of pastors seminaries should aim to produce, and why faithful ministry requires lifelong study.

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Episode guest: Albert Mohler

Dr. R. Albert Mohler Jr. serves as president and Centennial Professor of Christian Theology at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, KY. A theologian and ordained minister, he holds a master of divinity and a doctor of philosophy in systematic and historical theology from SBTS. He is the editor of WORLD Opinions and the author of several books, having contributed to over a hundred published works. He hosts two podcasts, The Briefing and Thinking in Public.

Episode synopsis

What is theological education?

In one sense, theological education goes back as far as the apostles’ teaching in the early church. More formally, though, it arose from the medieval university model. In that setting, theology, law, and medicine stood as the three central faculties. Theology was even regarded as the “queen of the sciences.” From that standpoint, a theological school can be understood as something like a medical school or law school, but for the training of ministers of the gospel.

At its core, then, theological education refers to the disciplined preparation of pastors, preachers, ministers, etc.

Who is theological education for?

As Dr. Mohler explains, theological education is for anyone who wants to pursue theological study for the cause of Christ. Theological education ought not be a mere academic exercise indulging religious curiosity. Rather, it should exist for the service of Christ and his church.

Thus, the primary purpose of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, for instance, is to train those who aspire to preach and teach God’s Word. That is the institution’s most important work.

At the same time, theological education is not limited to future pastors. Seminaries also serve those preparing for other forms of ministry in the church and on the mission field. They can even serve laypeople who long to grow in their understanding of the Bible and theology.

Are seminaries necessary?

If the local church bears the primary responsibility for raising up future ministers, are seminaries necessary?

Mohler agrees that the local church is the most important educator of future pastors. Yet it is unrealistic to forgo the seminary if we truly believe that such pastors benefit from the highest quality instruction from experts in their disciplines. No single local church is likely to have multiple experts in the original languages, Bible interpretation, apologetics, church history, systematic theology, and the many other disciplines needed for a deep and durable preparation for ministry.

Most people would feel uncomfortable receiving care from a medical doctor who lacked formal education. The same is true of pastors. If the church wants pastors trained by real scholars in the above disciplines, then it cannot simultaneously deny the need for formal theological education.

Over the long run, if faithful seminaries were to disappear, faithful churches would become much harder to sustain. The seminary should never replace the church, but the seminary provides a vital service to the church.

For instance, even the books churches often use to train members, pastoral interns, and elder candidates are often written by seminary professors. So the seminary serves the church in more ways than one.

What is the role of theological education in the local church?

Mohler explains, “The most important theological education is called Christian worship, centered in the act of Christian preaching.” Beyond this, churches can offer serious theological instruction to its members, e.g., classes on doctrine, Bible interpretation, etc.

Every believer is called to maturity in Christ, not just pastors and elders. The church grows believers into maturity through faithful preaching, worship, and the ordinary means of grace within the life of the church. If a church is ordered by Scripture, faithfully preaches the gospel, addresses issues contextually through exposition, then the members of that church will grow in grace and doctrinal understanding.

How does the church benefit from the theological education of its pastors?

Pastors are central to this vision because they are responsible for the church’s teaching. If that pastoral work is not done skillfully, faithfully, and with conviction, the church suffers and the sheep will be underfed. So James 3:1 warns would-be teachers. Thus, a church benefits immensely from the theological education offered by seminaries, since the quality of pastors’ preaching ministries depends in large part on the quality of their preparation.

Conversely, when pastors lack theological education, the church is made vulnerable to error. For instance, theological education exposes ministers to the theological challenges the church has already faced, the ways Christians have learned to read Scripture over two millennia, and both faithful and unfaithful models of ministry to be emulated and avoided respectively.

How does theology relate to discipleship?

As Mohler explains, discipleship, missions, ethics, preaching, etc., are inherently theological. There is no church without theology. There is no preaching without theology. Whenever a pastor preaches, he is functioning as a theological educator. Whenever he teaches moral truth, he is engaging in theology. Theology saturates the whole of a church’s life. Without an increasing knowledge of God and the doctrines revealed in Scripture, “the congregation cannot move into faithfulness.”

Likewise, although seminaries often include a separate theology department alongside New Testament, ethics, homiletics, etc., theology actually infuses them all. Theology in “theological education” is shorthand for a whole range of disciplines and responsibilities that all ultimately serve the church’s knowledge of God and faithfulness to his Word.

What kind of seminarians should seminaries aim to produce?

Mohler envisions young men called to gospel ministry—not merely through an inward sense of calling but through the external affirmation of the church. He hopes to equip the best of such men for lifetimes of faithfulness in the pulpit, in the church, in ministry, and on the mission field.

Mohler insists that pastoral ministry is not a mere occupation. It is a holy calling. Seminaries, therefore, should not produce religious professionals. They should prepare theologically-serious, biblically-grounded, gospel-motivated men for a life of faithful service.

Is seminary training sufficient?

However, the seminary is not sufficient for this task. Mohler insists that the church and its faithful application of the ordinary means of grace is vital for raising up pastors and ministers.

Nonetheless, there are certain things future pastors must know, and seminary training meets this need. You want your doctor to know far more than the basics they learned in medical school. But you certainly don’t want your doctor to know less than what they learned in medical school. So too pastors and the seminary.

As Mohler explains, a seminary cannot offer a full lifetime of ministerial education within a normal degree program, but it can provide students a grasp of that knowledge which is indispensable for rightly interpreting and expositing Scripture. From here, though, pastors must continue to learn and grow.

Mohler admits: Seminaries do not teach enough theology, enough Greek, enough Hebrew, enough Old Testament, or enough New Testament. This is not a criticism of the curriculum so much as an acknowledgment of the vastness of the task: There’s always more to learn.

Thus, Mohler wants graduates to leave seminary with a ravenous appetite to keep learning. Yet the normal work of faithful pastoral ministry will make this ongoing education inevitable. In fact, pastoral ministry makes the burden to study all the more urgent. Every sermon is a test of faithfulness. Cultural issues and pastoral counseling situations raise the need for theological precision.

Graduation from seminary is not a finish line. It’s not the end of a pastor’s formation. It is merely the end of its beginning. And the rewards of that growth are not merely personal. They are for the sake of the flock. Pastors study to feed the church.

How Logos serves The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary

Logos has a partnership with The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, providing Logos to its students.

Mohler observes how valuable this partnership has been, especially for students spread around the world who may not have easy access to physical libraries. Having a robust digital theological library available at all times has strengthened the educational experience of Southern’s students.

Additionally, Logos aids ongoing formation after seminary, since students take Logos with them after graduation. As Mohler comments, students maintain access to a wealth of resources.

Finally, Mohler comments that in the specific task of preparing sermons, Logos seamlessly brings together all the necessary tools: original languages, commentaries, and more.

Conclusion

In summary, Mohler sees theological education as indispensable because the church needs pastors who can preach the Word faithfully, understand doctrine clearly, and shepherd God’s people wisely. Seminaries cannot replace the local church, and they must never imagine themselves as independent from it. The seminary on its own is insufficient to raise up pastors. But neither can the church casually dismiss the value of structured, confessional, academically serious theological training of its ministers.

God’s people need capable shepherds, and those shepherds do not arise by accident.

Share your thoughts

Do pastors need theological education? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Resources for further reflection

The Religious Life of the Theological Students

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A Theology for Christian Education

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Theology, Church, and Ministry: A Handbook for Theological Education

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The Pastor as Public Theologian: Reclaiming a Lost Vision

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Succeeding at Seminary: 12 Keys to Getting the Most out of Your Theological Education

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How to Stay Christian in Seminary

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Surviving and Thriving in Seminary: An Academic and Spiritual Handbook

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Think: The Life of the Mind and the Love of God

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Habits of the Mind: Intellectual Life as a Christian Calling

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A Little Book for New Theologians: Why and How to Study Theology (Little Books)

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Why was Moses’s striking the rock such a serious failure that God forbade him from entering the promised land? In this episode of What in the Word?, Michael Morales joins Kirk E. Miller to tackle one of the more perplexing passages in the Old Testament: Numbers 20. Together they unpack the text’s rich theological layers, explaining how Moses failed to “sanctify” God by publicly misrepresenting his character before the people.

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Episode guest: Michael Morales

Michael Morales is Professor of Biblical Studies at Greenville Presbyterian Theological Seminary. He is author of Who Shall Ascend the Mountain of the Lord?: A Biblical Theology of the Book of Leviticus, Exodus Old and New: A Biblical Theology of Redemption, and a two-volume commentary on Numbers in the Apollos series.

Episode synopsis

Why this passage is difficult

At first glance, Moses striking the rock might seem like a relatively minor failure, especially since in a comparable incident where the people were without water, God instructed Moses to strike a rock with a rod to bring forth water (Exod 17:1–7).

Admittedly, God specifically says, “Tell the rock,” not “strike the rock” (Num 20:8). Yet, given the parallels to this previous event (Exod 17:1–7), might this have been a simple misunderstanding or mistake on Moses’s part? In Exodus 17, God told Moses to use the staff he had previously used to strike the Nile to turn it to blood (Exod 17:5; cf. 7:20). So we see a pattern of Moses using a staff to strike objects in relation to water. Now in Numbers 20, God likewise instructs Moses to take a staff (Num 20:8–9) in connection with bringing water from a rock. Wouldn’t Moses’s striking the rock be a reasonable inference (or reflex) at this point?

Yet God’s response is incredibly severe: Moses and Aaron will not lead Israel into the promised land. Why was striking the rock sinful? And why the (seeming) disproportion between Moses’s action and God’s penalty? These questions have led to a wide variety of attempts to explain what exactly Moses did wrong.

Which generation we’re dealing with and why it matters

A major part of Dr. Michael Morales’s interpretation depends on recognizing where Numbers 20 falls in the story.

First, the opening verse tells us that these events happen in the first month (Num 20:1). Then Numbers 33, which rehearses Israel’s journey, clarifies that this refers to the first month of the fortieth year. This, contrary to many interpretations, means that we have reached the second generation.

After the first wilderness generation rebelled after the spies’ report, God consigned them to wander for forty years and eventually die in the wilderness. They were not to enter the promised land (Num 13–14). Now that generation has effectively died off. Numbers 20 provides an account of the death or judgment of the leaders of that first generation: Miriam dies, Aaron is sentenced and then dies, and Moses is judged.

Numbers 20 then is not another example of the first generation’s unbelief and rebellion. Rather, it concerns the subsequent generation, which is preparing to enter the promised land. The second generation seems to need new leadership, as we see Moses has become quite tainted from his experience with the previous generation.

How Numbers’s structure follows the camp of Israel

Second, the structure of the camp provides a pattern for the covenant community.

1. At the center is YHWH’s own dwelling.
2. Around that is the inner camp of the Levites, the tribe that served God’s dwelling and mediated it to the other tribes.
3. Then forming the outer camp, we have the remaining twelve tribes.

Michael observes how the narratives in Numbers correspond to this arrangement of Israel’s camp:

1. First we encounter the failure of the outer camp of twelve tribes (Num 11–15).
2. Next we review the failure of the inner camp of Levites (Num 16–18).
3. Here in Numbers 20 we reach the failure of Moses (and Aaron), which, following the pattern of the camp, comes to represent its very center, YHWH’s dwelling.

This pattern—moving from the outer camp to the inner camp—illuminates the nature of Moses’s sin. As Michael explains in his commentary,

It appears that each group’s failure was in relation to usurping the next level of authority: the princes, representing their respective tribes (the outer camp), attempted to usurp Moses’ prophetic authority (chs. 13–14); the Levites (the inner camp) attempted to usurp Aaron’s priestly authority (chs. 16–17); and, finally, Moses (the camp of the Shekhinah) attempted to usurp YHWH’s authority directly.²⁷

In other words, by the time we reach Numbers 20, the narrative’s focus concerns the center of the camp, that is, God himself. This is why holiness language features throughout the chapter. (Num 20:12, 13; even the location of these events, Kadesh, shares the same root as “holy” [Num 20:1, 14, 16, 22], and so seems to contribute to this theme.) Thus, by their actions, Moses and Aaron fail to rightly represent God’s holiness before the people.

Yet at each phase, we also see vindication:

1. God vindicates Moses’s prophetic role before those who failed to heed it.
2. God vindicates Aaron’s priesthood before those who challenged it.
3. Finally, in Numbers 20 God vindicates himself before those who misrepresented him (i.e., because Moses and Aaron did not “uphold [God] as holy in the eyes of the people of Israel, … he showed himself holy” [Num 20:12–13]).

Varied attempts to explain Moses’s sin

Michael notes that commentators have proposed many interpretations of what exactly constitutes Moses’s sin. Some of the more popular include:

1. Moses sinned by lashing out at the people. This view finds additional support from Psalm 106:33, which says, “he spoke rashly with his lips.”
2. Moses tried to take credit for the miracle when he said, “Shall we bring water for you out of this rock?” (Num 20:10; emphasis added). However, against this interpretation, Moses’s words in Numbers 20:10 match what God instructed of him in Numbers 20:8: “So you shall bring water out of the rock” (emphasis added).
3. Moses should have struck the rock only once. Instead of striking the rock once, in anger Moses struck it a second time.
4. Moses doubted God’s power. This view cites Numbers 20:12 where God says Moses did not believe God. Yet this explanation is quite out of character for Moses who has witnessed God do many great things, including already bringing water from a rock (Exod 17). So why would Moses doubt God’s ability to do this?
5. Moses’s sin is simply unknown to us. Maybe Moses’s sin has been intentionally obscured to preserve Moses’s honor.

Michael admits there is truth in the first explanation: Moses did speak harshly to the people. But he does not believe it adequately explains the severity of God’s judgment and God’s description of Moses’s sin. A deeper issue is at play.

The passage’s descriptions of Moses’s sin

Namely, God describes Moses’s actions as a failure to demonstrate faith (or faithfulness) toward God so as to uphold God as holy (to sanctify him) before the people (Num 20:12). As the first generation failed to enter the land due to their unbelief (Num 14:11), now Moses will be denied entrance to the land for the same reason.

Whereas in Exodus 17, the text essentially reads, “And Moses did so [i.e., as God instructed]” (Exod 17:6), Numbers 20 provides a far more detailed account of Moses’s actions (Num 20:10–13). The need for this description indicates that Moses’s actions are far from obedient to what God instructed in Numbers 20:8.

In fact, Numbers 20:11 reads that Moses “lifted up his hand.” In Hebrew, this expression often conveys the idea of “high-handed sin,” that is, deliberate, defiant rebellion. So Morales argues that, by using this language, the text intends to evoke this category.

According to God, then, Moses’s sin was not a mere mistake or misunderstanding, but outright rebellion. Whereas Moses lambasted the people as rebels (Num 20:10), God identifies Moses as the actual rebel (Num 20:24). The one who accuses the people of rebellion is himself exposed to be a rebel.

The interpreter’s responsibility then is to understand how the details of the narrative justify God’s verdict of Moses, to learn to see the event as God sees it until the divine evaluation makes sense.

(For other references and descriptions of Moses’s sin in Scripture, see also Num 27:14; Deut 1:37; 3:23–27; 32:48–52; 34:1–5; and Ps 106:32–33.)

God’s kingly provision of water

In both Exodus 17 and Numbers 20, the people have a legitimate need: They lack water.

Michael points out that in the complaint narratives in the wilderness, whenever the people’s need is real, God responds compassionately even if the people complain sinfully. He does not rebuke or punish them but provides for them. This pattern matters since it shows God’s intention in Numbers 20, as well.

In Exodus 17, the water flows from the rock at Horeb (Exod 17:6), that is, Mount Sinai. The water will flow down from Mount Sinai as a way to prepare them for the Sinaitic covenant. The scene anticipates Sinai’s revelation as the source of life-giving instruction (like how the law of God is depicted as nourishing streams of water in Ps 1:3). So in Numbers 20, as God provides water, he provides another Sinai experience for this second generation.

In the ancient Near East, a major evidence of a good king was their ability to provide water for their people. So here, God instructs Moses to demonstrate his benevolent kingship before the people. This is to be a renewed presentation of God’s kingship before the second generation. The issue is not merely whether water will be supplied, but how Moses will represent God as the one who supplies it.

This connection of water with kingship fits a theme across Scripture where water, symbolizing God’s provision of life, flows from his holy habitation and throne (Ezek 47:1–12; Rev 22:1–2; etc.), which reflects the archetypal holy of holies, the garden of Eden (Gen 2:10–14).

When Moses asks, “Shall we bring water for you out of this rock?” (Num 20:10), Michael believes this rhetorical question expresses Moses’s refusal to bring forth water. Moses is angry with the people and spurns God’s mercy toward them. So Moses refrains from telling the rock to yield water, attempting to impede God’s generosity. Yet when he strikes the rock in anger, God overturns Moses’s refusal and provides water anyways (Num 20:11). Moses and Aaron failed to hallow God before the people, but God hallowed himself by meeting the people’s needs anyway (Num 20:12–13).

Which rod was Moses told to take?

Whereas in Exodus 17, God tells Moses to take the rod with which he struck the Nile (Exod 17:5; cf. 7:20), Michael contends that in Numbers 20, Moses grabs the rod of Aaron “from before the LORD” (Num 20:9; 17:2). “Before the LORD” is cultic language, referring to the sanctuary. Accordingly, this is not Moses’s ordinary staff, but Aaron’s rod which had budded and had been deposited in the sanctuary.

Recall the context:

1. God vindicated Moses’s prophetic office (his speech) in Numbers 11–15.
2. God vindicated Aaron’s high priesthood in Numbers 16–18 through Aaron’s blooming rod.

In this case, God’s specific instructions to Moses intend to bring together two important lessons for this second generation:

1. Moses is to speak to the rock, demonstrating his prophetic office and that he speaks on behalf of God.
2. Aaron is to hold his budded rod, representing his priestly office and that he is the chosen mediator where the people can find life with God.

Thus, Moses’s and Aaron’s sins involve using the emblems of their divinely vindicated offices to misrepresent God to the people.

Interestingly, when Moses takes Aaron’s staff, the text says this was “as [God] commanded him” (Num 20:9). Michael contends that this statement of approval early on in the narrative, instead of after all the events, indicates that what Moses does hereafter was disobedient, not “as [God] commanded him.”

Thus, Moses obediently takes Aaron’s rod, but when the decisive moment comes, instead of speaking to the rock, he takes up his own staff—the one associated with judgment, such as in the plagues on Egypt (Exod 17:5; cf. 7:20)—and strikes the rock. This is not an innocent confusion. It is a symbolic misrepresentation that would have conveyed God’s judgment and displeasure, when in fact God meant to communicate his graciousness.

Why Moses’s punishment is so severe

The gravity of Moses’s office explains the severity of his punishment. As God’s prophet, Moses functioned as the authoritative mediator of divine revelation. What Moses spoke, Israel was to receive as the word of God. Earlier in Numbers 16, God vindicated Moses by causing the earth to swallow up those who challenged that Moses truly had been sent by the Lord.

That background helps us see what is at stake in Numbers 20. If Moses can misrepresent God, then it would call into question the integrity of God’s revelation through Moses elsewhere. So by severely judging Moses, God publicly marks that occasion where Moses fails to represent God accurately. This judgment then preserves the reliability of Moses’s prophetic ministry elsewhere. Precisely because God responds so strongly, Israel can trust that Moses’s wider ministry remains true and authoritative.

In other words, Numbers 20 is about more than a jaded Moses losing his temper. It concerns the holiness of God, specifically the trustworthiness of God’s revelation.

The Edom episode as an interpolation

Sandwiched between Moses’s sin (Num 20:10–13) and Aaron’s death (Num 20:22–29) is a scene involving Israel’s interaction with Edom.

A. Moses’s sin in response to Israel’s quarreling (Num 20:1–13)
B. Edom’s refusal to allow Israel to pass through its territory (Num 20:14–21)
A’. The death of Aaron, the high priest (Num 20:22–29)

At first, this central episode may seem unrelated to the outer episodes. Yet Michael suggests this middle section functions to hold up a mirror to Moses. In his appeal to the king of Edom, Moses is able to recount Israel’s plight sympathetically, asking for compassion. Yet moments earlier, he himself had responded harshly, with impatience, to Israel’s thirst. So too Edom, their family member (ancestral cousins), harshly refuses Moses’s request.

Yet this episode also shows the second generation’s eagerness to enter the land. This is not the old generation that shrank back in unbelief.

Finally, Aaron’s death fulfills the judgment pronounced in Numbers 20:12 that he and Moses would not enter the promised land. So the chapter is bookended by Miriam’s (Num 20:1) and Aaron’s deaths (Num 20:22–29), signaling the completed judgment upon the first generation (Moses excepted) and with it:

Israel’s release from the wilderness and from God’s judgement. The period of wandering is over and may now give way to Israel’s purposeful journey to inherit the land. In this sense, hope may be found in Aaron’s death.²⁸

The practical significance of this passage

First, Michael reflects on Numbers 20’s striking display of God’s mercy. Despite the people’s complaints and despite Moses’s rebellion, God provides abundant water. God is not stingy. He is compassionate, patient, and generous even in the face of human failure. We can be assured, God remains faithful to the needs of his people, notwithstanding the failures of their leaders.

The chapter’s severe warning should not obscure this comfort. The same God who judges Moses also sustains the congregation.

Second, this passage teaches with seriousness that all God’s people—but especially spiritual leaders—must represent God faithfully. Moses misrepresented God, bearing God’s name in vain (Exod 20:7). By speaking harshly to the people and striking the rock twice, Moses endangered causing the people to perceive God as irritated and harsh instead of generous and merciful—and God judged him severely for it.

In this way, Numbers 20 strongly rebukes spiritual abuse. Those in positions of spiritual authority wield an authority that affects how people view God. Thus, when spiritual leaders mistreat those under their care, they offer a distorted view of God. Numbers 20 shows that when they do so, they commit a serious offense—one that God does not take lightly.

Advice for teaching and preaching Numbers 20

Michael calls preachers and teachers to maintain God as just. Do not minimize Moses’s sin in a way that makes God seem overreactive or unfair. When sin is treated lightly, God’s judgment appears arbitrary.

Instead, help listeners see the weight of Moses’s offense so God’s mercy shines bright.

Logos values thoughtful and engaging discussions on important biblical topics. However, the views and interpretations presented in this episode are those of the individuals speaking and do not necessarily reflect the official position of Logos. We recognize that Christians may hold different perspectives on this passage, and we welcome diverse engagement and respectful dialogue.

Let us know what you think

What do you think was Moses’s sin? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Michael Morales’s recommended resources

Numbers, 2 vols. (Apollos Old Testament Commentary | ApOTC)

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Numbers (Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries | TOTC)

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Additional commentaries on Numbers

Best Numbers Commentaries (7 vols.)

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Numbers (Baker Commentary on the Old Testament: Pentateuch)

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Genesis–Numbers (ESV Expository Commentary, Vol. 1 | ESVEC)

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Numbers (The JPS Torah Commentary | JPSTC)

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Numbers (The New American Commentary | NAC)

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The Book of Numbers, 2nd ed. (The New International Commentary on the Old Testament | NICOT)

Regular price: $60.00

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Numbers (The Story of God Bible Commentary | SGBC)

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Bible study is a daily rhythm. But the “daily” part is often the hardest.

Well, this update makes it easier to stay consistent: deeper controls for your research, a better way to build reading plans, and a cleaner mobile experience. Let’s dive in!

Watch the update

Prefer a video walkthrough? Product manager and longtime Logos user Mark Barnes will share everything you need to know about this update in a live session. There’s even time for a Q&A at the end, so stick around with your burning questions.

Sign up for the video walkthrough on April 23 or catch the replay.

Highlights at a glance

1. Author Filtering in Study Assistant: Research based on the voices you trust most
2. Reading Plan creation wizard: Get a guided, goal-oriented plan for staying in God’s Word
3. Unified Reading Plan markers: See your progress and how long reading will take
4. More focused mobile efforts: Join us for better study with a consolidated app experience

1. Conduct research using specific authors

You’ve always been able to ask what the experts say. Now you can ask what a specific expert says.

Author Filtering is now available inside the Study Assistant collection picker. Select a particular author, and your results will draw only from their works—no other voices mixed in (unless you want them).

• Want to know what Charles Spurgeon said about suffering? Filter to his works and let him answer.
• Curious how C. S. Lewis approached the nature of faith? Narrow it down to his books and get exactly that.

It’s one more layer of control for the moments when a specific voice matters more than a chorus.

Those not subscribed will get a limited number of Study Assistant uses per month.

2. Build a reading plan that actually fits your life

Creating a reading plan used to feel a bit like filling out a form. The new Reading Plan creation wizard changes that. It’s a guided, step-by-step experience that starts with your goal, not a blank document.

• Pick your content: A specific Bible range, or any book from your library
• Set your pace: Commit to, say, “15 minutes a day,” aim for a finish date, or go open-ended and let Logos keep your place while life happens

Whether you’re a busy parent carving out a few quiet minutes in the morning or a student using Logos’s Reading Plans to keep on top of your studies, the wizard meets you where you are.

3. See your progress at a glance—on every device

Reading Plan markers now look and work the same on desktop, web, and mobile. No more jarring differences depending on where you use Logos.

One of the most useful new details: reading time estimates. These banners show you an estimation of how long your reading will take.

And when you tap “Mark as read,” Logos automatically moves you to the start of tomorrow’s reading. The next time you sit down, you’re already in the right place.

4. A more focused mobile experience

To make them even better, and to do so faster, our team is putting all of its energy into the Logos and Verbum apps. That means the Faithlife Study Bible and Faithlife Ebooks mobile apps will be removed from the app stores.

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More updates

• Improved Favorites: Dragging Study Assistant into your Favorites now creates a link back to that specific conversation.
• Cleaner searches: The Study Assistant collection picker resets every time you close it. Your next search always starts fresh.

Want to see all the under-the-hood updates and bug fixes? Take a look at the technical release notes.

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Many Christians are surprised to discover that bonafide and respected Christians hold not only competing views on eternal conscious punishment but also outright alternatives to it. For example,

• N. T. Wright argues that the damned will indeed suffer in hell forever but will become less and less human until they no longer bear the image of God—something like the transformation of Sméagol into Gollum in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.²⁹
• Shawn Bawulski also affirms eternal torment, yet he maintains that the lost will in some sense be reconciled to God, submitting to him and ceasing to sin.³⁰

Others have reconsidered the doctrine more dramatically.

• Preston Sprinkle recently abandoned eternal torment altogether after publishing a widely read defense of it only a few years earlier.³¹
• Around the same time, Terrance Tiessen also left the traditional view behind, despite having defended it not long before in a respected academic theological dictionary.³²

Names like these—and they are just a sampling—demonstrate that faithful Christian theologians disagree with one another when it comes to the nature and duration of hell, even if the average Christ-follower in the pews doesn’t know it.

In this article, we’ll survey the terrain of this fiery (pun intended) yet in-house debate. We’ll explore

1. Common misconceptions and key biblical terms
2. The three views on hell across church history
3. The exegetical and theological arguments for each view
4. Answers to frequent questions and objections to hell
   Conclusion

Afterlife and life thereafter: hell vs. the intermediate state

Many Christians seem to think that hell is where an unsaved person goes immediately after dying, but it’s not. The church has always affirmed that one day all the dead will be resurrected. Only then will the lost be sentenced to hell as final punishment.³³ So, hell is where the unsaved are sent after being raised back to life from the dead.

By contrast, theologians use the phrase “intermediate state” for the time between death and resurrection. Most Christians have believed the righteous and unrighteous dead are nevertheless conscious as disembodied souls, and this is what the term afterlife typically refers to.³⁴ But the hell debate concerns life thereafter, following the resurrection of the dead.

The KJV translation of the Bible may explain why many Christians confuse hell with the intermediate state. Its translators chose to render multiple distinct words, referring to different concepts, using the single English word “hell.” However, recognizing the distinctions between these words and concepts is critical for navigating the hell debate.

Sheol (שְׁאוֹל) or Hades (ᾅδης)

The words Sheol and Hades refer to the place of the dead in Old Testament Hebrew and New Testament Greek, respectively. The KJV thus translates the first several occurrences of Sheol as “grave,” like when Jacob, thinking his son Joseph has been killed, refuses to be comforted and says, “I will go down into the grave [שְׁאוֹל, Sheol] unto my son mourning” (Gen 37:35 KJV; see also Gen 42:38; 44:29, 31). The Septuagint (LXX)—the Greek translation of the Hebrew OT completed in the third and second centuries BC—renders this with the Greek word Hades, so NT figures and authors followed suit. In his psalm, David says God will not abandon the Messiah in “Sheol” (Ps 16:10), which Peter translates as “Hades” at Pentecost: “you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead [ᾅδης, Hades]” (Acts 2:27 NIV).

Use Logos to find every instance of Sheol (שְׁאוֹל) and Hades (ᾅδης) in the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint (LXX), and the Greek New Testament, respectively.

Whether humans are conscious while dead in Sheol/Hades is the subject of a separate debate, but it is not where final divine punishment is meted out—that is, hell. In John’s prophetic vision of final punishment, he sees Sheol/Hades emptied of its dead in their resurrection, and it is thrown empty into the lake of fire before the resurrected lost subsequently join it there (Rev 20:13–15). Jesus’s story of Lazarus and the rich man (Luke 16:19–31), which is explicitly set in Hades (Luke 16:23) while the dead rich man’s brothers are still going about life as usual (Luke 16:28), therefore has little if any bearing on the hell debate. It says nothing about what awaits the rich man after he is raised for judgment.

Tartarus (τάρταρος)

In 2 Peter 2:4, the verb translated “cast them down to hell” by the KJV is ταρταρόω, which points to the present, ongoing imprisonment of fallen angels until their final punishment. The verb literally means, “to cast into or to cause to remain in Tartarus.”³⁵

In Greek mythology, Tartarus was a place of punishment distinct from and far below Hades. Humans generally went to Hades after death, while Tartarus is where divine beings like the Titans were punished.³⁶ Peter appears to co-opt the name of this place to say it’s where divine beings in Jewish theology—angels—are currently held in “chains of gloomy darkness to be kept until the judgment” (emphasis added). Like Sheol and Hades, then, Tartarus is a sort of intermediate state, but for divine rather than human beings. It is not hell, the place of final punishment.

Gehenna (γέεννα) and the lake of fire

Translating the aforementioned terms “hell” causes confusion, because they’re not about the final judgment. “Hell” should be reserved for Gehenna and for the lake of fire in Revelation.

The toponym Gehenna (γέεννα) transliterates the name of the Valley of the Sons of Hinnom (גֵּי בֶן־הִנֹּם), a valley outside of Jerusalem that serves in the OT as the setting of future divine punishment (e.g., Jer 7:30–34). Contrary to popular notions, the valley was not a garbage dump, nor was its name commonly used to refer to final divine punishment by Jews before the time of Jesus, who instead appears to have popularized its use as such.³⁷ For example, when he quotes the prophet Isaiah’s description of future divine punishment (Isa 66:24) in the context of the new heavens and new earth (Isa 65:17), Jesus locates it in Gehenna (Mark 9:47–48).

The lake of fire also refers to hell and final punishment in the book of Revelation, albeit symbolically. Many Christians misunderstand the nature of prophetic visions of the future in Scripture, thinking seers were shown future events as they would literally unfold. They were not. Rather, seers were shown vivid symbols that represented future events, and these were often so perplexing they had to be explained by supernaturally gifted interpreters. Joseph, for example, has to explain to Pharaoh that, in his vision, fat cows being devoured by emaciated ones symbolize upcoming years of abundance followed by famine in Egypt (Gen 41). Likewise, an angel has to explain to John the Revelator that, in his vision, a monstrous beast’s seven heads symbolize a succession of seven kings, the sixth of which is alive at the time (Rev 17:10). As for the lake of fire, it symbolizes the final fate of all God’s enemies, including death itself (Rev 20:10–15).

A matter of life and death: 3 views of hell

This brings us to the topic at hand, to the three basic views of hell embraced among Christians through history. We’ve seen that this intramural debate does not concern the intermediate state between death and resurrection (Sheol and Hades), but rather the future and final punishment of the resurrected lost (Gehenna) and fallen angels presently imprisoned until then (Tartarus).

• But what is the nature of this final punishment?
• How long will it last?
• Can those sent to hell be saved at some point thereafter?

Theologians propose a wide range of ways to understand hell, but they are all variations of three basic views. Each affirms something denied by the other two.³⁸

1. Eternal conscious torment (or traditionalism)

Most Christians have believed in the doctrine of eternal torment or eternal conscious punishment, which is why it is often called traditionalism. This historically dominant view says that when the dead are resurrected—saved and lost alike—their risen bodies will all be rendered immortal, and they will live forever thereafter. The saved will go on to enjoy the blissful presence of God and the fellowship of the redeemed for all eternity, but the lost will live and suffer in hell forever, apart from God and his kingdom. Hell, then, is not a place where disembodied spirits or souls suffer forever. It is where resurrected immortals will live everlastingly in a miserable condition called “death.”

Traditionalists differ on many of the details of hell.

• Those who believe in separationism argue that hell is self-imposed—locked from the inside—its torments largely psychospiritual and self-induced.³⁹
• Those who espouse belief in reconciliationism think everyone will be reconciled to God, but for the lost this means only that they willingly submit to God and accept their unending punishment.⁴⁰
• The dehumanization view suggests the damned will grow less and less human, eventually ceasing to bear the image of God but remaining consciously separated from him forever.⁴¹

Notwithstanding such differences, these variations of eternal torment all include belief that the risen lost will be immortal and live forever in hell.

This belief in the universal immortality of resurrected humanity enjoys extremely historic pedigree among both Jews and Christians. It wasn’t the universal ancient Jewish report, but it is found in some writings prior to Christ.

• Written in the second century BC, the book of Judith says of the damned that God “will send fire and worms into their flesh; they shall weep in pain forever” (Jdt 16:17).
• And in the first or second century AD, the book of 4 Maccabees warns of “eternal torment by fire” (4 Macc 9:9) and “unceasing torments” (4 Macc 10:11).

Among Christian writers, eternal conscious torment appears as early as the second century.

• Tatian of Adiabene assures readers that, after death, humans “receive the immortal with enjoyment, or the painful with immortality.”⁴²
• Athenagoras of Athens applies 1 Corinthians 15:54, with its language of resurrected immortality, to the saved and unsaved alike.⁴³
• Two and a half centuries later, Augustine of Hippo says the quality of immortality, characteristic of the immaterial soul, will also be exhibited by the resurrected bodies of the damned.⁴⁴

In the wake of Augustine, eternal conscious torment has dominated Christian thought when it comes to hell.

• In the medieval period, Anselm of Canterbury insists it is irrational to think guilty souls could ever die.⁴⁵
• Like Augustine, Thomas Aquinas thinks the soul’s immortality will be communicated to the risen bodies of both the good and the evil.⁴⁶
• Three hundred years later, the Reformer John Calvin denies that the risen wicked will ever die.⁴⁷
  Jonathan Edwards does likewise two centuries later.⁴⁸
• In the mid-nineteenth century, Charles Spurgeon says the lost are “condemned to live forever in hell.”⁴⁹
• In the modern era, traditionalists from C. S. Lewis to Wayne Grudem all teach that the resurrected lost will “live forever” in hell.⁵⁰

This collective testimony, from these and many others of the brightest Christian thinkers throughout church history, should surely give doubters pause.

2. Annihilationism (or conditional immortality)

Conditional immortality (or conditionalism) is the view that only those who meet the condition of being saved will be raised immortal and live forever. The lost, in contrast, will be raised mortal and, as the consequence of their sin, die in hell, in both body and soul, never to live or experience anything ever again—an eternal capital punishment. If humans have non-physical spirits or souls that remain conscious after the first death, those of the lost will be slain and destroyed with their risen bodies in the second death, therefore entailing a complete end to their conscious existence. For this reason, conditional immortality is sometimes called annihilationism.

Conditionalists disagree with each other concerning some of the particulars, though.

• Some prefer the phrase terminal punishment (rather than conditional immortality or annihilationism) as best reflecting their view.⁵¹
• Some see death as the punishment meted out in hell, thinking any torment experienced by the damned will be caused by the means of their execution.⁵²
• Others locate final punishment in the torment itself and think a just proportion thereof will eventually terminate in death.⁵³
• Though most conditionalists believe the devil and his angels will be destroyed in hell along with unredeemed humanity, a view one might call partial conditionalism holds that demonic beings (but not human ones) will instead be tormented forever.⁵⁴

Like eternal conscious torment, conditional immortality was believed among the Jews in the time of Jesus. It may have even been the majority report.

• In the book of Jubilees, final judgment is characterized as being “rooted out of the land of the living” (Jub 36:9) by a “devouring fire” resembling that which slew the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah (Jub 36:10).
• The Dead Sea Scroll known as the Community Rule curses the wicked unto “the gloom of everlasting fire” (1QS II, 7–8) and “an abundance of afflictions” (Rule 4:12–13) until their ultimate “destruction” (Rule 2:6; 4:13–14), the Hebrew word כָּלָה meaning “complete destruction, annihilation.”⁵⁵
• Wisdom of Solomon insists the unrighteous “will become dishonored corpses” (Wis 4:18); though “the righteous live forever” (Wis 5:15), “the hope of the ungodly is like … smoke before the wind” (Wis 5:14).
• Tobit 14:7 promises that saved Israelites will “live in safety forever” while “those who commit sin and injustice will vanish from all the earth.”
• The Psalms of Solomon (13:11) sing that “the life of the righteous goes on for ever,” but “sinners shall be taken away to destruction, and no memory of them will ever be found,” for they will be excluded from participation in the resurrection (Ps Sol 3:11–12).

The expectation that only the righteous will live forever, and that the unrighteous will finally be destroyed, is found in much of the intertestamental literature.

Conditionalists admit that their view has been in the extreme minority since the time of Augustine, but they argue that the earliest Church Fathers taught it.

• A half-century before Tatian and Athenagoras, Clement of Rome identifies immortality as a divine gift promised only to God’s people.⁵⁶
• A contemporary of Clement, Ignatius of Antioch teaches that Christ died to secure immortality for his people, urging readers not to perish and forsake this gift.⁵⁷
• Also predating Tatian and Athenagoras, the Didache instructs catechumens to thank God for “immortality, which Thou madest known to us through Jesus.”⁵⁸
• Irenaeus of Lyons, a contemporary of Tatian and Athenagoras, says the unsaved reject God’s gift of “continuance” and “length of days for ever and ever.”⁵⁹

Conditionalists therefore think they are following in the footsteps of the Protestant Reformers, willing to slough off what they see as centuries of unbiblical tradition accumulated since the time of the earliest Church Fathers.

To the chagrin of conditionalists, their view appears to be unrepresented among Christians from the time of Augustine to the Protestant Reformation, but it has enjoyed degrees of popularity since then. It was extremely popular, in fact, among Protestants of various denominations in the nineteenth century. As the Baptist conditionalist Jacob Blain wrote in the middle of that century, “the number who now hold the view is so large, and so decided in spreading light, that all efforts to stop its progress must be vain.”⁶⁰

Such efforts were not in vain, and conditional immortality faded largely into obscurity in the late 1800s and into the 1900s, but it did not disappear altogether. Conditionalism persisted among some British evangelicals, including John Wenham, Stephen Travis, Michael Green, and even John Stott. To their ranks have since been added many other diverse thinkers: Clark Pinnock, John Stackhouse, Philip Edgcumbe Hughes, David Powys, Preston Sprinkle, Terrance Tiessen, and more.

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3. Christian universalism (or apokatastasis)

Variously known as universalism, universal salvation, and universal reconciliation, this view of hell posits that everyone will ultimately be rescued from hell or will avoid it entirely. The Greek term apokatastasis, meaning a “restoration,” is also sometimes used of this view specifically, but believers in all three views affirm what they think the Bible means when it promises a “restoring” (ἀποκατάστασις) of all things in, for example, Acts 3:21.

1. Universalists share with traditionalists a belief in the universal immortality of resurrected humanity, for the risen lost will live as long as it takes to be saved, and forever thereafter.
2. However, universalists believe with conditionalists that all suffering will end and all evil will be eradicated—albeit by means of conversion rather than annihilation.
3. Contrary to both eternal conscious torment and conditional immortality, universalists deny that the punishment of hell will be everlasting.

Universalism is often unfairly associated with liberalism and equated with outright pluralism. Some universalists are indeed liberals or pluralists and seem to think everyone will go to heaven when they die, regardless of what they did or believed in life. But self-identifying evangelical universalists typically argue that those who do not embrace Christ and receive salvation in the here and now will have the opportunity to do so on the Day of Judgment or thereafter in hell, and everyone will eventually do so, becoming saved and joining the community of God’s redeemed people.⁶¹ This sort of universalism, in which salvation is through faith in Christ alone, appears to be neither liberal nor pluralistic.

An evangelical universalism is somewhat similar to the Roman Catholic doctrine of purgatory, but they should not be confused with one another. In Catholicism, purgatory is not a view of hell at all, for it is not the final punishment of unbelievers. Rather, it is where believers, already united to Christ, are purged and purified of their sins through temporal punishments, rendering them fit to enter heaven.⁶² By contrast, an evangelical universalist believes hell is where resurrected unbelievers are sent, having not (yet) been united to Christ. But their punishment in hell is neither everlasting nor purely retributive: It is remedial, intended to purge and purify the damned of their sin and turn them to Christ in faith and repentance for their salvation. And this it will do to everyone sent to hell, eventually.

Unlike eternal conscious torment and conditional immortality, universalism cannot be found among Jews before and in the time of Jesus, but some Christians embraced it very early on in church history and have done so since.

• Clement of Alexandria and Origen of Alexandria, writing around AD 200, taught that hell will compel sinners to repent and be saved, purifying and cleansing them.⁶³
• A couple hundred years later, the influential Trinitarian Gregory of Nyssa echoes Clement and Origen in affirming a purgatorial hell.⁶⁴
• The nineteenth-century Congregationalist George MacDonald does likewise, identifying the sinful nature of the damned as that which is destroyed by their punishment in hell.⁶⁵

Today, Christian philosophers like Thomas Talbott and Eric Reitan, and theologians like Robin Parry, bear the universalist torch of Clement and Origen.⁶⁶

“Come now, let us reason together”: exegetical and theological arguments

We turn now to a survey of the exegetical and theological evidence offered in support of each of the three views of hell. Historical and philosophical concerns are not irrelevant, of course. Many traditionalists point to the overwhelming dominance of their view through most of church history, and many universalists lean on sophisticated philosophical arguments. However, we must always subject these to the greater authority of Scripture.

1. Fire, smoke, and suffering: the case for eternal conscious torment

The exegetical case for eternal torment predominantly relies on NT texts, but two passages in the OT are typically cited for its support, as well.

1. Daniel predicts that the unrighteous will rise “to shame and everlasting contempt” (Dan 12:2). Traditionalists argue that this prophecy of the general resurrection requires the risen wicked to remain alive forever thereafter, or else they could not experience contempt everlastingly.
2. Isaiah describes a scene of final divine judgment, saying of those who rebel against God, “their worm shall not die, [and] their fire shall not be quenched” (Isa 66:24; cf. Mark 9:48). Many traditionalists maintain this means these rebels will forever provide the worm and the fire with food and fuel. They will never be completely consumed.

Three NT texts are cited most frequently as evidence for eternal conscious punishment.

1. At the end of Jesus’s description of final judgment, the wicked are told, “depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels” (Matt 25:41). Many traditionalists understand this to be fire that burns forever because it never depletes those who fuel it. Christ concludes by saying they “will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life” (Matt 25:46). Since both the punishment and life to come are called “eternal,” the damned must consciously endure as long as the righteous do—so the argument goes.
2. In his apocalyptic vision, John hears an angel proclaim that those who worship the beast “will be tormented with fire and sulfur.” Importantly, the smoke from their torment rises “forever,” and they have “no rest day or night” (John 14:9–11). Were their torment to end, it would cease to produce rising smoke. They must therefore suffer forever, which explains their unending restlessness.
3. Later John sees the devil “thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur,” where the beast and its prophet were thrown a thousand years prior, and together the trio is “tormented day and night forever and ever” (John 20:10). Soon thereafter, the resurrected lost are thrown into the lake to join them (John 20:15), presumably facing the same unending fate there.

Traditionalists point to a few additional NT texts as support for their view.

• That the fire of hell is called “unquenchable” (Matt 3:12; Mark 9:43; Luke 3:17) is taken to mean it will never die out, again suggesting the damned continue to fuel it throughout eternity.
• According to Jesus, “weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matt 8:12; 13:42, 50; 22:13; 24:51; 25:30; Luke 13:28) are characteristic of hell, which would be strange if those consigned to it weep and gnash only for a short time before dying.
• And Paul says the wicked “will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord” (2 Thess 1:9). If destruction is just annihilation, the adjective “eternal” would be redundant, and it makes little sense to speak of people who no longer exist as being “away from” God.

Traditionalists are convinced that these and other texts are interpreted most faithfully as supporting the doctrine of eternal torment in hell.

Theologically, many traditionalists argue from the infinitude of God and Christ’s substitutionary atonement. Because God is of limitless and inestimable greatness, any sin against him therefore merits an infinite penalty. And since a finite creature cannot suffer an infinite penalty in a finite span of time, the damned must suffer eternally. God thus became man to suffer the infinite consequences of sin that no ordinary human could exhaust in his or her own suffering. Besides, the condemned will not stop sinning just because they are in hell. Their continued rebelliousness in hell will merit continued punishment.

Meanwhile, if the damned will be destroyed such that they cease to exist altogether, Jesus could not have borne that penalty in place of sinners without temporarily ceasing to exist himself. This would render the Trinity a binity or rend asunder the hypostatic union of his human and divine natures, with either alternative violating creedal orthodoxy. If Jesus did not bear that fate, though, then that cannot be what awaits the damned who obstinately refuse to appropriate his atoning work as substitute. Only everlasting conscious punishment, according to traditionalists, is therefore compatible with the work of Jesus as substitute.

2. Life, death, and immortality: the case for annihilationism (conditional immortality)

The exegetical case for conditional immortality (or annihilationism) includes OT texts that they contend traditionalists overlook. If a student of Scripture looks in the OT for descriptions of endless afterlife torment, one will struggle to find it. But if one instead asks more open-endedly what the OT says about the fate of the unrighteous, many texts seem to offer an answer. For example, the psalms promise that the wicked will be slain (Ps 34:21); they’ll wither like vegetation, be cut off, perish, and vanish like smoke (Ps 37:2, 9, 20); God will bathe his feet in their blood (Ps 58:10). Yet countless wicked people prosper in the here and now, dying peacefully in the lap of luxury and in the esteem of many. If they are to be exposed and punished with ignominious death, the psalms must be taken to indicate that the wicked must rise to face such a judgment in hell. Conditionalists also point out that in OT proof texts for eternal conscious torment, only the righteous rise unto eternal life (Dan 12:2), while the unrighteous are instead reduced to corpses (Isa 66:24).

The NT, however, is where conditional immortality finds its greatest exegetical support.

• Only the citizens of the New Jerusalem are depicted as having access in eternity to the tree of life (Rev 22:2), apart from which humans are doomed to die (Gen 3:22).
• John says the Son was given “that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life” (John 3:16). In context, this seems to refer to life and death literally; it comes right after Jesus compares himself to the serpentine statue that literally saved the lives of Israelites from fatally venomous snakes (John 3:14; cf. Num 21:9).
• Paul writes, “the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 6:23), and his very next words suggest he means life and death literally, for he says that when a husband dies, his living widow is free to remarry (Rom 7:1–2).
• Jesus could not be clearer, conditionalists insist, when he warns his disciples to “fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt 10:28), using “destroy” to mean “slay” or “kill” (cf. Matt 2:13; 12:14; 21:41; 27:20; Mark 3:6; 9:22; Luke 6:9).

Importantly, the NT promises immortality in the resurrection only to the saved, and it implicitly denies the unsaved will receive it.

• Immortality must be sought, and God must grant it (Rom 2:7).
• He will grant it to those who belong to Christ (1 Cor 15:23), who will receive immortality and incorruptibility as prerequisites for inheriting the kingdom of God (1 Cor 15:50–55).
• Whereas Israelites “ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died,” Jesus says he “is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die” (John 6:49–50; emphasis added).
• And when he is asked by the Sadducees about the resurrection, he says the risen saints will be unable to die because they are sons of God (Luke 20:35–36), implying those raised unto judgment apart from Christ will remain mortal.

Because of the texts above and others, some conditionalists insist that the Bible teaches their view as clearly as it does just about anything else.⁶⁷

Turning to theology, conditionalists appeal to the holiness of God and to the substitutionary, atoning work of Christ. In conditional immortality, God is so holy and he hates sin so much that he will obliterate it forever in hell, finally killing and destroying those who stubbornly persist in it. Conditionalists point out that, in contrast, the traditional view of hell has God supernaturally guaranteeing sin exists forever by raising the lost with immortal bodies in which they never stop sinning.

As for the atonement, Jesus did not cease to exist when he died on the cross, but he did die. Importantly, the Bible seems to identify his substitutionary work primarily with his death (e.g., Matt 20:28; Mark 10:45; John 10:11; Rom 5:8), not his pain. Consequently, conditionalists contend that death must be the fate awaiting the damned in hell, not immortality and enduring life. In the estimation of conditionalists, the punishment traditionally thought to await the damned in hell could not be more unlike the death Jesus bore in the place of sinners.

3. Adam, Christ, and all things: the case for Christian universalism (apokatastasis)

Though it will come as a surprise to some, evangelical universalism is motivated not only by philosophy and sentiment but also by a genuine desire to affirm the teaching of Scripture. Even the staunchest critic of universalism must admit that some passages sound initially and at face value like support for universalism.

This is perhaps most true of texts comparing Jesus to Adam, in which both the words and logic initially seem like those of a universalist.

• Paul compares the respective impact of the first Adam and second, saying, “as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men” (Rom 5:18; emphasis added). Universalists maintain that the prepositional phrase “for all men” means the same thing on both sides of the comparison. Since Adam’s sin affected humankind universally, universalists argue that the saving work of Christ affects humankind universally.
• Similarly, Paul writes, “as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor 15:22; emphasis added). Once again, the universalist wants “all” to mean the same thing in both clauses.

Other texts featuring words like “all” and “every” appear to offer prima facie support for universalism:

• Christ “gave himself as a ransom for all” (1 Tim 2:5–6), Paul writes.
• God “is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe” (1 Tim 4:10).
• God exalts his risen Son “so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow … and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord” (Phil 2:9–10).

The translation “all things” features in several passages that seem on the surface to indicate absolutely everyone and everything will be redeemed by God.

• He will “restore” all things (Matt 17:11; Mark 9:12; Acts 3:20–21).
• He will “unite” all things (Eph 1:9–10).
• He will “reconcile” all things (Col 1:19–20).

As for theology, universalism is heavily motivated by God’s nature as love. “God is love, John writes (1 John 4:8, 16; emphasis added)—not merely loving, but love itself. Of course, God’s attributes are not limited to love. A biblically derived view of hell will also account for his holiness and wrath. Nevertheless, even some traditionalists argue that this means every act of God toward someone must be an act of love toward that person, at least in some way and to some degree.⁶⁸ Intuitively, neither eternally tormenting the damned nor annihilating them seems like an act of divine love for them. But it would certainly be loving of God to endlessly pursue their affection and salvation until they all embrace him and are thereby rescued from hell.

The rubber meets the road: FAQs

Before we close, let’s briefly consider how one might navigate some common questions about hell, especially in light of our survey above.

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1. Why would a loving God send people to hell—especially if he created people knowing they’d end up there?

When it comes to questions like this, the answers that are intuitive to some will be irreconcilable with what others find to be the intuitive answers to different questions:

• How could a just God let the unrepentant victimization of others go unpunished?
• Would a good God force people into heaven against their will?
• Why would God withhold the dignity and pleasures of life from people (by not creating them in the first place) simply because he knows they’ll ultimately reject him?

It’s okay to ponder questions like these, but if we’re genuinely seeking the truth, we’ve got to be careful not to fixate on some questions to the exclusion of others.

God is not only love. He is also holy and just—and his love extends beyond those he sends to hell. For instance, we think poorly of people who are apathetic to those suffering at the hands of others. We criticize people who refuse to execute justice on those who perpetrate evil. Well, hell is proof that God cares about victims, for he will use his power to bring justice to their oppressors. Indeed, he will do so because he loves those victims. To do otherwise would be unloving toward them.

This wouldn’t account, of course, for anyone sent to hell who hasn’t victimized others. But the reality is we finite mortals can’t possibly know what a maximally loving, holy, and just God would do—apart from him telling us.

2. How can those who go to heaven be happy if people they love end up in hell?

This question faces defenders of all three views of hell, and each view provides different resources for answering the question.

• Eternal conscious torment might say that when we’re resurrected and glorified, we’ll be sinless and see things from God’s perspective. We’ll see the perfect justice in the suffering of our lost loved ones in hell, and it won’t interrupt our eternal bliss.
• Annihilationism (conditional immortality) might say that when we lose a loved one in the here and now, we grieve to varying lengths and degrees, but our grief fades over time and we’re able to enjoy life. So, too, will our grief fade in the unending years after our lost loved ones finally perish in hell.
• Christian universalism (apokatastasis) might say that we’ll grieve for some time, knowing our lost loved ones are suffering in hell. But the knowledge they’ll one day willingly join us in heaven will keep us going as we look forward to when they do, and our grief is no more.

Of course, such answers will not fully satisfy everyone, but they can lead to further fruitful conversation.

3. What about the immature, those with cognitive disabilities, or people who have never heard the gospel? Will God send them to hell?

Each of the three views of hell has latitude within it for debating questions like these.

Believers in all three views can agree that, apart from Jesus Christ, no mature, able-minded human being is so good as to be without sin and merit eternal life. But perhaps a person can die too young and immature, or too lacking in cognitive/intellectual capacity, to be held justly accountable.

Maybe someone who has never heard the gospel, and is therefore unaware of how to be forgiven of their sin, will be shown mercy. Possibly, people in these categories will, on the Day of Judgment, be rendered capable of making a meaningful choice and be given a final opportunity to repent in faith and be saved. Possibilities like these and others have been perennially explored and debated by Christians for ages, regardless of which of the three views of hell they accept. But even if none of them is actually the case (as I suspect), no one will be sent to hell unjustly. God can be trusted to do what is right.

4. Is hell fair? Is its punishment fair and proportionate?

Several factors are often minimized, dismissed, or overlooked entirely by those who object that hell is unfair.

• For one thing, what people think is fair is heavily influenced by their culture, and cultural intuitions change with every generation.
• For another thing, we are sure to underestimate the gravity of sin. We are sinners ourselves, and with our finite capacities, we can’t confidently determine the full impact of one’s sin on oneself, on others, and on creation more broadly.
• Besides, people can’t even agree on the fair and proportionate punishment for crimes in the here and now. Ask ten people what the sentence should be for this or that crime, and you’ll probably get a multitude of answers.

Any judgments we make concerning the fairness of hell should be held with an open hand and a gigantic grain of salt.

Some views of hell might make answering these questions easier than others do, but ultimately, each view can defend the fairness of hell.

1. Eternity of conscious punishment may seem disproportionate to a finite lifetime of sin, but crimes that only take moments to commit are often met with punishment that lasts far longer. No one objects when a spontaneous murder is punished with years of prison time. And sins committed while being punished may merit further punishment.
2. Annihilationism (conditional immortality), or eternal capital punishment, may seem unfair to opponents of the death penalty, but half or more of all people support it.⁶⁹ Besides, God could secure the death of the damned by simply withholding immortality from them. Surely, they are not owed immortality and eternal life.
3. Christian universalism (apokatastasis), where the punishment of hell is both remedial and finite in duration, can certainly be understood in ways that make it fair and proportionate to sin.

5. Does the threat of hell make faith coerced instead of voluntary?

No, the threat of hell doesn’t coerce faith, because hell isn’t punishment for refusing to believe. It’s punishment for sins.

The government prohibits many activities and threatens punishment for them. Sometimes, it offers clemency to those found guilty of such crimes, provided they meet certain conditions (e.g., leaving the jurisdiction and never returning). Such criminals have already merited their just punishment. So if pardon is offered to one willing to meet certain conditions, the punishment for failing to meet those conditions isn’t a threat enacted to coerce them to do so (even if it feels that way). Rather, the punishment is simply what they would already have deserved.

Likewise, according to the worldview of Scripture, all mature and able-minded people have already sinned and merited their just punishment in hell. A pardon is offered to anyone willing to embrace Jesus Christ in saving faith. But the punishment of hell isn’t a threat to coerce one to believe. It’s what one already rightly deserves. People are free to reject the offer and face the punishment already coming to them, or to accept the offer and be pardoned through faith in Jesus.

Conclusion

As we’ve seen, Christian debate over hell isn’t about what happens when the lost die. That’s the intermediate state. Rather, it’s about what happens when the lost are resurrected and subsequently judged. According to eternal conscious torment, the resurrected lost will be immortal and live forever in hell, where their punishment will be everlasting misery of some sort. In conditional immortality, they’ll remain mortal and be slain in hell, both body and soul, their punishment consisting in the everlasting privation of their lives. And in evangelical universalism, they’ll be immortal and live forever, but their eternal lives will only begin in hell, which will purge and purify them of their sinfulness and rebelliousness until they repent and turn in saving faith to Jesus.

This has been a mere introduction to the kinds of difficult questions Christ-followers should be thinking about and prepared to address. All three views enjoy at least prima facie exegetical support and theological justification. So I invite you to deeper and humbler study with fellow Christians in prayerful submission to the Holy Spirit.

Share your thoughts

What is your view of hell? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Chris Date’s recommended resources for further study

• Copan, Paul, and Chris Date. Concerning Hell: The Doctrine in Theological, Philosophical, Historical, and Biblical Dialogue. InterVarsity Academic, forthcoming.

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I have a confession: I enjoy prepping lectures. I like researching, analyzing, and organizing material. I like synthesizing ideas and crafting a class session that feels clear and coherent. I even enjoy delivering it and watching discussion unfold, seeing light bulbs go off. That joy is part of why I became a professor in the first place.

The problem is that I like it too much.

Preparing the perfect lecture can expand to fill every available hour. And like most faculty, I don’t only teach. There are committees and emails, as well as advising, writing, grading, and my personal life outside of the institution. Add to that a nagging uncertainty: Did it land? Did they actually understand? Or did they sit politely while I performed?

Now we’re teaching in an AI-saturated world. Students can generate summaries, explanations, and even outlines in seconds. Information is no longer scarce. Presence is. Attention is. Real engagement is.

In that environment, it’s tempting to believe the solution requires even more preparation—more polish, more content, more effort. But that path isn’t sustainable.

What has changed my teaching more than anything recently wasn’t better content or smarter tools—it was better live feedback.

Why increased lesson prep still feels insufficient

One of the quiet frustrations of teaching is that the goal is rarely as clear as we pretend. When students begin an assignment without knowing how it will be evaluated, they hesitate. They second-guess. They try to cover everything, just in case. In many ways, lecturing operates under the same conditions. There is no rubric for a class session. No immediate grading guide. No precise measure that tells us, “You hit the target.”

So we try to compensate.

When there is no clear feedback loop, preparation expands to fill the uncertainty. We add more examples. More illustrations. More clarification. More slides. If teaching is a basketball game, it can begin to feel like playing without a hoop. We just keep shooting, hoping something scores.

In the absence of real feedback, we rely on substitutes. A few raised hands. A lively comment or two. A vague intuition about how the room felt. End-of-term evaluations that arrive months too late to help. Often, we mistake the confidence of a few vocal students for broad comprehension.

When you don’t know what students understood, for many of us this creates more preparation. And over time, that strategy becomes exhausting.

My exit ticket experiment: a small—but significant—change

I have to admit that the solution I’m about to describe is not revolutionary. I had heard about exit tickets before. I had even sat through faculty workshops where someone enthusiastically recommended them. At the time, I nodded politely and went back to doing what I had always done. It took a combination of fatigue and curiosity to finally try it for myself.

The original motivation was modest. Like many instructors, I needed a fair and consistent way to assign participation points. I had tried student sign-in, discussion tracking, and informal impressions. None felt quite right. So, I decided to experiment with something simple: At the end of every class, students would submit a brief exit ticket to earn participation credit.

The format was straightforward. Two questions:

1. What was the most interesting idea or fact today?
2. What was least clear or still confusing?

That was it.

Each student received full credit for a good-faith response. There were no “right” answers. It wasn’t an assessment. It wasn’t surveillance. It wasn’t a gimmick. It was a structured moment of reflection—and a structured opportunity for me to listen.

I expected it to solve a participation problem. I did not expect it to reshape my preparation, my teaching, and my understanding of what my students were actually experiencing in class.

2 ways this improved student learning

The change was small. The effects were not.

The first benefit was cognitive. When students pause at the end of class to articulate what they learned, something changes. A lecture that might otherwise remain a monologue becomes a kind of dialogue. Students must find their own words. They must connect new material to what they already knew before walking into the room. They begin to notice what was added, clarified, or unsettled.

That brief act of reflection consolidates learning. Research on formative assessment consistently shows that frequent, low-stakes feedback strengthens engagement and improves retention because it surfaces understanding in real time rather than weeks later.⁷⁰ Exit tickets function as a simple but powerful version of that principle: They reveal what connected and what did not, whether because I moved too quickly, assumed background knowledge, or simply missed a moment.

The second benefit was equity. For the first time, I wasn’t just hearing from the fastest or loudest students: I was hearing from everyone. Every professor knows that some of the brightest students are quiet. (Thomas Aquinas himself was nicknamed the “Dumb Ox” by classmates who mistook his silence for ignorance—a story recounted in early Dominican accounts of his life.)⁷¹ Many students need time to process before speaking. Others are hesitant to risk public confusion. A briefly written reflection lowers those barriers. It dignifies reflective thinkers and surfaces confusion that would otherwise remain hidden.

In two short questions, the classroom became more honest and more inclusive.

2 ways this reduced my prep time, while improving my lectures

I wasn’t only searching for ways to improve student learning. In all honesty, I also needed to reduce my prep time. The exit ticket did both because it replaced guesswork with evidence.

First, I stopped preparing for imaginary problems. Like many instructors, some of my lecture preparation wandered into rabbit trails—interesting, but not essential. Without clear feedback, it is easy to over-explain, over-illustrate, or anticipate objections students never actually have.

The unfiltered honesty of the exit tickets exposed this. Students would write, “I think I understand the definition, but I’m not sure why it matters” or “We spent too much time on this part.” Their comments weren’t hostile, they were clarifying. They revealed what truly helped them understand the material and what did not.

Second, the structure forced focus. Because I begin each class by addressing responses from the previous exit tickets, I effectively surrender five to ten minutes of lecture time. That constraint sharpened my preparation. When I revisited old lecture notes, I saw sections I could cut without sacrificing learning. Some material was informative but unnecessary. Some explanations were redundant.

Over a fifteen-week semester, meeting twice a week, those minutes accumulate into three to five reclaimed hours of core lecture time. And because preparation expands to match lecture length, prep time shrinks accordingly.

Formative assessment research consistently shows that timely insight into student understanding allows instruction to become more targeted and efficient.⁷² I experienced that reality firsthand. Better feedback didn’t make me care less—it made me care more precisely.

Human engagement in an AI-saturated classroom

We are teaching in a moment when students can generate explanations, summaries, and outlines in seconds. Information scarcity is gone. A student can generate a polished paragraph without ever grappling with the underlying idea. A student can sound informed without ever wrestling with the material. In that environment, the instructor’s value shifts. Our task is no longer primarily to produce explanations, but to discern what students actually experienced and understood.

This is precisely where the exit ticket proves its worth. AI is asynchronous, it operates after the fact. Exit tickets are synchronous. They capture understanding before students leave the room. AI can summarize content, but exit tickets surface meaning, confusion, and curiosity. They reveal what connected, what did not, and what requires attention now—not next week.

Research on AI in education increasingly notes the limits of automated feedback: It often lacks contextual nuance, relational awareness, and instructional judgment. The exit ticket does something simple but powerful in this environment: It asks students to think before AI thinks for them. In doing so, it preserves what is most human about teaching: shared presence, honest reflection, and responsive instruction.

A powerful but sustainable teaching workflow

Over time, this practice settled into a rhythm. At the end of each class, students will submit their exit ticket—formerly on paper, now through a short online form. The platform is secondary. What matters is consistency.

Before the next class session, I skim the responses, highlight a handful of representative comments, and look for patterns.

• Where was there clarity?
• Where was there confusion?
• What surprised them?

I begin the next class by reading several responses aloud—always anonymously, always verbatim. It is one of my favorite moments. Students walk in with a quiet anticipation: I wonder if my words will be read? The class becomes highly personalized. Their insights, questions, and even frustrations become the opening conversation. What might have been a routine recap instead becomes a targeted refresher and a bridge into new material.

The structure is the same every time. There is no reinvention, no elaborate grading, no additional cognitive load. The feedback shapes emphasis, not just content. And once the feedback loop is in place, other preparation tools, whether digital libraries, research software, or lecture notes, become more efficient because they are guided by evidence rather than guesswork.

Care measured by attentiveness, not volume

I did not set out to redesign my pedagogy. I set out to solve a practical problem: participation points and limited time. What I discovered was not a trick, but a shift.

A small practice created a feedback loop. That feedback loop sharpened my preparation, strengthened student learning, and restored a measure of sustainability to my work.

In a profession where preparation can quietly consume every available hour, it is easy to believe that caring more means preparing more. But care is not measured in volume. It is measured in attentiveness. The exit ticket did not reduce my standards, it clarified them. It did not lower my expectations, it focused them.

In an AI-saturated classroom, where information is abundant but attention is fragile, this kind of live human feedback matters even more. It asks students to reflect before outsourcing their thinking. It shifts teaching from performance to discernment.

For me, two simple questions at the end of class created a win-win: Students learned more and I prepared less. Not because I cared less, but because I finally knew where my care belonged.

Share your thoughts

What strategies have you found helpful to increase student learning? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

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Sin is a fundamental concept in Christianity. In English-language Bibles, words for sin appear over a thousand times. Salvation is frequently explained as the forgiveness of sins. Whether certain activities are sinful and how to avoid sin are common questions among Christians. Understanding sin is, therefore, a necessary part of understanding Christianity itself.

So what is sin?

How should we define sin?

A very common definition of sin is “to miss the mark.” This comes from one proposed lexical definition of the Hebrew word חטא.

This definition is catchy, but it is partial and can give a misleading impression. After all, the Bible does not use just one or two words to refer to sin. Commentators have actually located around twenty different terms in the Old and New Testaments.⁷³ Each of these terms may have somewhat different lexical domains, and their particular individual meanings must be determined by their context.

For most of the Bible, especially the Old Testament, the authors assume that their readers already know what sin is. Finding a single comprehensive definition for sin requires more than focusing on the words themselves. It must instead come from the use of the term and the larger concept that emerges across the whole of the Scriptures.

One important way to define sin is what might be called a metaphysical perspective. This approach is common in the early church and in the Middle Ages. It explains that sin is not a “thing” at all, but a privation. Sin is the moving away from God’s ethical standard and, ultimately, moving away from God himself.

This was important for early Christian apologetics, as the claims of monotheism necessarily excluded any other being from the category of Creator. How then did evil things come to be? The privation theory provides the answer. Evil was not created but rather introduced by the creation’s own movement away from God.

Another outlook on sin is the ethical or legal perspective. Perhaps the most explicit biblical statement describing what sin is comes from 1 John 3:4: “sin is lawlessness” (ESV). Sin is a violation of God’s law. This verse provides the basis for the Westminster Shorter Catechism’s definition of sin: “Sin is any want of conformity unto, or transgression of, the law of God” (WSC 14). Sin is therefore a moral and legal concept.

Understood properly, the metaphysical and ethical understandings are not really alternatives. Instead, they imply and reinforce one another. The “movement” away from God to which the privation theory argues is a movement of the will. It is a corruption of an original good. This corruption is brought about by the creature rather than the Creator, and this fundamentally occurs when willing agents (whether angels or men) disobey God. This is necessarily ethical. Sin is the deprivation of God’s favorable presence which occurs when we violate his law.

Sin as privation of the good

To many modern Christians, the language of “privation” is unfamiliar. Describing evil or sin as a sort of absence or lack seems counterintuitive.

We would never want to minimize the existence of evil nor the seriousness of sin. In a fallen world, evil is a reality. When Christians from earlier times said things like “good is, while evil is not,”⁷⁴ this may sound rather strange to us today. By statements like these, they did not mean to say that evil does not exist. Rather, their point was that evil lacks a “substantive existence.”⁷⁵ Evil is not a part of anything’s essence, “For everything created by God is good” (1 Tim 4:4).

The larger background for this way of thinking comes from the argument that there is only one God and that he created all things from nothing (ex nihilo). God has life in himself (John 5:26) by his very nature as God, and everything else—everything other than God—receives its life or existence from God (Acts 17:24–25). Every created existence is a contingent existence, that is, all things depend upon God for their continued existence.

Writing in the second century, Irenaeus put it this way, “all things that have been made have their beginning through being made, but they continue to exist as long as God wills them to do so.”⁷⁶ He adds, “life is not from ourselves or from our nature, but it is given according to God’s grace.”⁷⁷ In this sense, “things that exist” must come from God. Their continued existence is entirely dependent upon God’s sustaining will. Evil, therefore, is not an “existing thing”—at least, not in these terms. If it were, then it would be a gift from God, and this would imply that God is the author of evil, an intolerable conclusion (see Jas 1:12–18). Therefore, evil is not an “existence.”

Augustine of Hippo shares this same basic understanding. Since there is only one eternal, “God is existence in a supreme degree—he supremely is.”⁷⁸ Every other existing thing owes its existence to God. “He gave existence to the creatures he made out of nothing.”⁷⁹ This means that there are no other contrary existences, not on the level of true and proper existence. “No nature is contrary to God”;⁸⁰ “The only contrary nature is the non-existent.”⁸¹ Augustine is here presenting a powerful argument against Manicheanism, the heretical school which he had followed for nearly a decade before his conversion. Manicheanism asserted that there were two ultimate powers: good and evil. Christianity teaches there is only good: the Good, God. If that is the case, then evil and sin cannot be existences or natures. They are not gifts from the one Good God. (If they were, he would not be the supreme Good.) Instead, they must be defective goodnesses.

Evil being a flaw or deficiency means that evil is dependent upon good. Without some good, there could be no evil, for there would be no thing to deprive. “There is nothing of what we call evil, if there be nothing good.”⁸² Good, however, is not dependent upon evil, for “a good which is wholly without evil is a perfect good.”⁸³ Augustine concludes, “every being … in so far as it is a being is good, and in so far as it is defective is evil.”⁸⁴

Athanasius of Alexandria even describes the entrance of sin into the world as something like a reversal of creation from nothing:

For the transgression of the commandment returned them to the natural state, so that, just as they, not being, came to be, so also they might rightly endure in time the corruption unto non-being. For if, having a nature that did not once exist, they were called into existence by the Word’s advent and love for human beings, it followed that when human beings were bereft of the knowledge of God and had turned to things which exist not—evil is non-being the good is being, since it has come into being from the existing God—then they were bereft also of eternal being.⁸⁵

In this passage, terms like “natural” and “being” are defined directly in relation to God. Human nature considered entirely on its own, without God, cannot exist. It came from nothing and would revert to nothing without God. Things only have being (or existence) because they receive that existence “from the existing God.” The God who is self-existent, the only self-existent, created them. All other things can only continue to have existence if they continually receive it from God. If people move away from God, and Athanasius directly connects this to their transgressing God’s commandment, then they will return to what they were before God created them: nothing. This sort of “nothingness” is something of a hypothetical, because Athanasius does not believe that anyone will wholly cease to be. He affirms an eternal judgment for the wicked.⁸⁶ But the non-being that evil brings is its movement away from the one true Being, God.

Athanasius repeats that this movement is ethical. It comes from deviating from God’s laws. He quotes from the book of Wisdom, “Attention to the laws is the confirmation of incorruptibility” (Wis 6:18).

The role of choice is very important for the concept of evil as privation. In a perfect world, there is no evil. Mere privations, such as darkness being a privation of light, are not evil. A privation becomes evil when a rational agent declines from a good thing to something inferior. Athanasius explains:

Instead of beholding the Creation, she [the soul] turns the eye to lusts … thinking that by the mere fact of moving she is maintaining her own dignity, and is doing no sin in doing as she pleases; not knowing that she is made not merely to move, but to move in the right direction.⁸⁷

Accordingly, the cause of sin must be explained as “the rejection of better things.”⁸⁸

Augustine agrees. He states, “sin, or unrighteousness, is not the striving after evil nature but the desertion of better.”⁸⁹ In the beginning, there would not have been an evil nature. There was simply the supremely good God and his “very good” creation (Gen 1:31). The only explanation can be the will of the creature. Augustine adds, “sins, Holy Scripture in many ways testifies, are from the will of those sinning.”⁹⁰ Elsewhere he repeats this emphasis on the will, “The origin of sin is in the will.”⁹¹

Sin, then, is a privation of good but an active privation. Sin is when a creature chooses to think, will, or act in a way contrary to God and what God has commanded, thus resulting in further separation from God and, ultimately, the absence of life itself.

Sin as violation of God’s law

The understanding of privation as “active” connects the metaphysical perspective of sin to the moral perspective. Summarizing the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century reception of this same doctrine, Richard Muller explains that theological privation “is not, however, mere privation (mere privatio) but, as sin, is an active opposition to God and to the good.”⁹² This means that privation is, as Athanasius had alluded, an opposition to God’s laws. Sin is lawlessness (1 John 3:4).

This moral or ethical explanation of sin is likely the more intuitive for modern readers. This may be due to its practical character. Rather than contemplating more abstract concepts like being, nature, and existence, this perspective places more focus on God’s direct special revelation. Sin is a deviation from God’s eternal law, and it is concretely seen in the violation of God’s moral law.

The expression “want of conformity,” in the words of the Westminster Shorter Catechism (14), indicates the failure to perform a duty. Theologians call this a sin of omission. A “transgression of the law” would be actively doing that which is forbidden. This is called a sin of commission. This classification has even made its way into devotional and liturgical literature, such as the General Confession of Sin found in the historic versions of the Book of Common Prayer: “We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done.”⁹³ Sin is doing what you should not do and not doing what you should.

This moral perspective also means that sin brings about an ethical problem. Sin is wrong. Being wrong, sin deserves punishment. “The wages of sin is death” (Rom 6:23). This death is not merely the loss of existence, because the Scriptures join it to punitive curses: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree’” (Gal 3:13). And to make amends for this curse, there is a penal requirement. “[W]ithout the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins” (Heb 9:22). There is even a judgment that comes after death: “[I]t is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Heb 9:27). The moral definition of sin is therefore needed to complete the metaphysical definition.

We can also see that the metaphysical and moral understandings mutually imply and reinforce one another. The God who is, the God with true and exclusive self-existence, is also the good God and the just God. To move away from his being is also to move away from righteousness and goodness. And a good God and perfect being could not simply allow for unrighteousness to exist indefinitely within his own creation. Rather, he must take some action to maintain and perfect his creation. As Athanasius puts it, “this great work [of redemption] supremely befitted the goodness of God.”⁹⁴

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How can we identify sin?

If sin is the violation of God’s law, then sin can be discovered by comparing it to God’s law.

The primary way that God’s law can be used for this purpose is by examining the Ten Commandments. Every human thought, word, and action should be evaluated by each of the commandments to discover what sin is.

Each commandment, in turn, includes a duty and a prohibition. Each brings a “Thou shalt” as well as a “Thou shalt not,” and this can be understood through rational inquiry. As the Westminster Larger Catechism explains, “where a duty is commanded, the contrary sin is forbidden; and where a sin is forbidden, the contrary duty is commanded” (WLC 99).

We can see this in the Scriptures when the Apostle Paul says, “Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need” (Eph 4:28). It is not enough to simply stop stealing. An ethical person will work honestly and even give to others in need. The eighth commandment applies to both aspects.

Additionally, the fifth commandment does not only require children to obey their parents. It also gives a duty to parents. We can see this in Ephesians 6:1–4, where Paul cites the commandment, “Honor your father and mother,” and then applies it to both children’s duty to “obey” and the parents’ duty to “bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.”

While the New Testament does proclaim that Christ fulfills the law’s demands before God’s eternal judgment (Rom 6:14, 10:4; Gal 4:4–5), it also continues to appeal to the law as the Christian’s ongoing moral guide:

Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. For the commandments, “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,” and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law. (Rom 13:8–10)

The practical way to “love your neighbor” is to follow the moral law toward them, both in its duties and in its prohibitions. The Commandments are a guide for holy living and a way to identify and guard against sin.

Are all sins the same?

Committing any sin at all brings God’s wrathful judgment upon you. “Whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it” (Jas 2:10). And internal and invisible sins can be judged in God’s sight every bit as much as their external manifestations or enactments. “Everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matt 5:28; cf. Matt 5:21–22). Even so, it is not correct to say that all sins are equal.

The unforgivable sin

The New Testament states that there is at least one sin that is unforgivable:

Every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven people, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven. And whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come. (Matt 12:31–32; see also Mark 3:22, 29; Luke 12:10)

Commentators and theologians have debated exactly what Jesus means here. In context, the sin in question is ascribing the works of the Holy Spirit to Satan.

It may be appropriate to extend this to any persistent rejection of the gospel itself. One cannot be forgiven if they deny the offer of forgiveness. At the same time, we should not be too rigid with this application. Surely the Apostle Paul did something like this very sin before his conversion: “formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief” (1 Tim 1:13).

Sins against knowledge

Paul’s qualification about ignorance also teaches us how some sins are worse than others. Sins committed after a person has greater knowledge are worse than sins done out of ignorance.

Jesus tells Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernum that “It will be more tolerable on the day of judgment for the land of Sodom than for you” (Matt 11:20–24). Why is this the case? It was because these were “the cities where most of his mighty works had been done,” but “they did not repent” (Matt 11:20). Greater knowledge of God and greater exposure to special revelation brings greater responsibility before God.

Similarly, the third commandment teaches us that “the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain” (Exod 20:7). The flagrant sins of those who should be nearer to God are worse than those who are far from him.

Sins against nature

Another class of sins that is more heinous than others are sins against the light of nature. Many of these are sins of sexual deviancy.

For instance, the Apostle Paul finds it incredible that a man would take his father’s wife. This “is not tolerated even among pagans”(1 Cor 5:1). There are sins which are “contrary to nature” (Rom 1:26). And giving approval to shameless acts is worse than merely practicing them (Rom 1:32).

Venial and mortal sins?

From the notion of a hierarchy of sins eventually developed the distinction between mortal and venial sins. In the early church, certain grave sins were given greater acts of penance before a person could be readmitted to the sacrament of Holy Communion. Eventually, this was formulated into a more specific system.

Thomas Aquinas provides one example. He defines a “venial sin” as a sort of “incomplete” and “qualified” sin (Sent. II, D.42.Q1.A3.SC2). These are sins that are easily forgivable and are due only temporal punishments rather than eternal ones (Sent. II, D.42.Q1.A4.C). He adds that sins are venial when they lack the consent of deliberate reason (Sent. II, D.42.Q1.A4.C.2). Venial sins, therefore, are evils but of a minor sort. They deserve temporal punishments, but they do not place one in danger of eternal judgment. Mortal sins, on the other hand, can place even the Christian in danger of hell. Thomas believes that mortal sins can become venial through the sacrament of penance. “What is mortal becomes venial through confession” (Sent. II, D.42.Q1.A4.C).

This distinction has continued to be a doctrine for the Roman Catholic Church. Their current catechism teaches that “mortal sin destroys charity in the heart of man,” whereas “venial sin allows charity to subsist, even though it offends and wounds it” (CCC 454). Mortal sin requires “a conversion of heart which is normally accomplished within the setting of the sacrament of reconciliation” (CCC 455). Without this conversion, mortal sin brings about “the eternal death of hell” (CCC 456).

While there have been various popular lists of “deadly sins” throughout church history, the Roman Catholic Church does not have a set number of mortal sins. Instead, any number of sins can be mortal under the right conditions. For something to qualify as a mortal sin in the Roman Catholic Church today, it must involve a grave matter and be “committed with full knowledge and deliberate consent” (CCC 455).

The Protestant churches rejected this kind of essential distinction between mortal and venial sins. Richard Muller explains, “both the Lutheran and the Reformed deny the distinction, at least in the sense that venial sins must also be recognized as damnable and as worthy of eternal punishment if the sinner perseveres in them to the point of [final impenitence].”⁹⁵

This can be seen in Martin Luther’s Leipzig debate, where he asserts “to deny … that venial sin is pardonable, not according to its nature, but by the mercy of God … that is equivalent to crushing Paul and Christ under foot.”⁹⁶ Restating this without the double negative, Luther’s point is that venial sin is not pardonable because of its nature, because it fails to destroy charity. Rather, venial sin is only pardonable by the grace of God.

The English Bishop John Davenant puts it this way, “We … affirm of all sins, universally, that they are, by their own desert, deadly, and de facto lead to death, unless the deadly poison of them be expelled by the antidote of repentance and grace.”⁹⁷ Davenant is here referring to spiritual and eternal death, as he has just explicitly rejected the claim that venial sins might “deserve temporal punishment only.”⁹⁸

Still, the various Protestant churches and theologians did employ some distinctions between kinds of sins. Article 16 of the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion refers to “deadly sin willingly committed after baptism.” This may have simply been a customary way of speaking of grave or serious sins. The intention of the article is not to explain the difference between “deadly” sins and lesser sins but instead to deny that deadly sins committed after baptism are sins against the Holy Ghost and therefore unforgivable. A seventeenth-century commentary on the Thirty-Nine Articles states, “Though every sin, in itself considered, deserveth damnation; yet is there a sin which shall be punished with many, and a sin which shall be punished with few stripes.”⁹⁹ From this understanding, even though all sins are damnable, some sins still warrant greater punishment than others.

Another example of a Protestant using a stipulated version of the distinction between mortal and venial sins is The Commentary of Dr. Zacharias Ursinus on the Heidelberg Catechism (1888). This work was created from the classroom notes of Ursinus’s students, and so they are not directly from Ursinus. Still, they reflect one school of thought within the seventeenth-century Reformed tradition. In that commentary, a distinction is made between “reigning sin” and “sin that does not reign.” Then we are told, “The common distinction of sin into mortal and venial may be referred to this division.”¹⁰⁰ In this understanding, “mortal sin” or “reigning sin” is a sin where “he who perseveres in it will at length be overtaken by destruction.”¹⁰¹ This is “that form of sin to which the sinner makes no resistance through the grace of the Holy Spirit” or “every sin which is not deplored.”¹⁰²

These Protestant uses of “mortal” or “deadly” sin are still substantially different than the Roman Catholic meaning. They deny that the difference is in the nature of the sins themselves. Instead, they locate the difference in the attitude of the sinner toward those sins, whether they are fighting against them or giving approval to them.

What is the punishment for sin?

As a violation of law, sin requires punishment. The Bible teaches that the most basic punishment is death. “In the day that you eat of it, you shall surely die” (Gen 2:17). “The soul who sins shall die” (Ezek 18:1). This punishment is also described as a divine curse, “Cursed be anyone who does not confirm the words of this law by doing them” (Deut 27:26).

Beyond physical or earthly death, the Scriptures also speak of an eternal judgment, usually invoking the image of fire: “their worm shall not die, their fire shall not be quenched, and they shall be an abhorrence to all flesh” (Isa 66:24). Jesus explains that this eternal fire refers to hell:

It is better for you to enter life crippled than with two hands to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire … It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, “where their worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.” (Mark 9:47–48)

Hell, then, is the extension of the judgment of death into eternity. Hell is not non-existence or annihilation. Hell is a continued form of existence in which the person experiences God’s judgment against sin.

Jesus teaches that Satan and his angels will spend eternity in hell (Matt 25:41). He also teaches that those who are considered by him as being unrighteous “will go away into eternal punishment” (Matt 25:46). This sort of punishment is explained as being just, the righteous requirement of the law (Rom 1:32).

What is the solution for sin?

Knowing what sin is and the severity of its curse is important for the Christian religion. A mere knowledge of sin, however, leaves mankind accountable for sin but without any means of solving their problem. They would be without hope of salvation. The verdict of justice would indeed remedy the problem of sin, but it would not provide redemption for humans.

And so God offered another solution through the gospel of his son. “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1 Tim 1:15). “God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whosever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). Perishing is contrasted with “eternal life,” which the Scriptures say is given to humans if they believe in the Son of God. “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life” (John 3:36).

This believing in the Son is further explained by the New Testament as trusting that Jesus Christ makes atonement for our sins. “If anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:1–2). The term translated as “propitiation” is usually defined as an appeasement.¹⁰³ Another New Testament occurrence of the term comes with a fuller context:

all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus. (Rom 3:23–26)

And so the ultimate solution for sin comes in the priestly work of Jesus Christ. Through his sacrificial death, an appeasement for sins was made. Because of the atonement of Christ, God’s justice is preserved and he can justify all who have faith in Jesus.

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Resources for further study of sin

Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin

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Knowing Sin: Seeing a Neglected Doctrine Through the Eyes of the Puritans

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Fallen: A Theology of Sin (Theology in Community)

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Original Sin: Illuminating the Riddle (New Studies in Biblical Theology, vol. 5 | NSBT)

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Against God and Nature: The Doctrine of Sin (Foundations of Evangelical Theology)

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Ruined Sinners to Reclaim: Sin and Depravity in Historical, Biblical, Theological, and Pastoral Perspective

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Rebels and Exiles: A Biblical Theology of Sin and Restoration (Essential Studies in Biblical Theology | ESBT)

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Defending Sin: A Response to the Challenges of Evolution and the Natural Sciences

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Melchizedek is one of the most mysterious figures in the Bible, with only two incredibly brief mentions in the Old Testament. Yet in Hebrews 7, the author makes the astounding argument that this fleeting character from Genesis anticipates the end of the Levitical system and the establishment of Christ’s eternal priesthood.

Join Kirk E. Miller and Dr. Madison Pierce on What in the Word? as they unravel this challenging passage and explore how its complex theological argument provides a practical anchor for our souls and a better hope for believers.

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Episode guest: Madison Pierce

Madison Pierce (PhD, Durham) is lecturer in New Testament and early Christianity at the University of St. Andrews. Her research interests are the Epistle to the Hebrews as well as the interpretation and reception of traditions in early Christian literature. Her current research focuses on the author of Hebrews’s messiah language and analogies using Jewish rituals. She is ordained in the Reformed Church in America as a minister of Word and sacrament. She is also a New Testament editor at Reviews of Biblical and Early Christian Studies and a co-host of The Two Cities podcast.

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Episode synopsis

Hebrews makes the startling claim that Melchizedek helps answer why Jesus’s priesthood surpasses the Levitical system established under the law. But how does Melchizedek, an obscure character who appears only briefly in Genesis and Psalms, serve the importance of explaining Jesus’s priesthood?

What makes Hebrews 7 difficult?

One reason Hebrew’s use of Melchizedek proves challenging is his obscurity. Prior to Hebrews 7, he only shows up briefly in Genesis 14 and Psalm 110. Yet Hebrews seizes on him as a key figure for understanding Jesus. This might feel initially surprising, since we would not expect a seemingly minor character to carry such theological weight.

Hebrews 7 also raises questions about the relationship of Christ’s priesthood to the law: The law prescribes a Levitical priesthood, yet Christ is not from the tribe of Levi. The passage offers, not an odd exegetical detour, but a central theological claim at the center of the book’s argument about the identity and work of Christ. So it is not only difficult, but notably load-bearing, raising the stakes of its difficulties.

Finally, Hebrews 7 is rich with intertextuality, where Scripture uses other parts of Scripture to make its case. The New Testament’s use of the Old Testament, for instance, can often feel quite perplexing, with Hebrews 7 being a case in point.

Use Logos’s New Testament Use of the Old Testament interactive to explore intertextuality in Scripture. Start a free trial.

The context of Hebrews 7: its role in the argument of Hebrews

The first major section of Hebrews is concerned with the theme of God’s household (Heb 1:1–4:13). God is presented as Father, Jesus as his Son and our brother, and believers as children in God’s household. This theme eventually leads into a comparison between Moses’s and Jesus’s roles in God’s “house,” a word that can evoke both family and tabernacle or temple.

From Hebrews 4:14 onward, the author’s focus shifts more directly to the tabernacle and the priesthood. Namely, Jesus is our great high priest. The author argues that Jesus fits the pattern of a legitimate high priest. In Hebrews 6, the author injects a warning, concerned that his audience will fail to accept the sacrifice of Christ on their behalf. Then in Hebrews 7, the author returns to addressing Christ’s priesthood, further developing the argument begun in Hebrews 4:14–5:10 and reintroduced at the end of Hebrews 6 (see Heb 6:19–20).

Interestingly, at the end of Hebrews 6, the author introduces the role of oaths to show that God’s promises are unchangeable and unbreakable (Heb 6:16–17). This appeal to oaths will reappear in Hebrews 7 in the author’s use of Psalm 110 (Heb 7:20–21, 28).

All of this—the argument for Christ’s priesthood, the stern warning, and the assurance found in God’s oath-making—is meant to bolster believers’ hope and confidence so that they might persevere, a key theme throughout (see Heb 4:14–16; 6:11–12, 18–20; 7:19). This discussion of Melchizedek, then, is not a mere abstract discussion for our author but one with profound practical ramifications.

4 main views of Melchizedek’s identity

In making the argument of Hebrews 7:1–10, the author references the account of Melchizedek in Genesis 14.

Dr. Madison Pierce surveys the main views on Melchizedek’s identity:

1. Melchizedek is Christ himself, a Christophany, a pre-incarnate appearance of God the Son.
2. Melchizedek is a type of Christ, a historical figure whose features and function foreshadow and anticipate Jesus.
3. Melchizedek is an angel. Melchizedek is an elevated heavenly or angelic being.
4. Melchizedek is a literary foil. The author of Hebrews is using this character from Genesis to illustrate a theological point.

Madison rules out the first view for two main reasons: First, as a theological commitment, she believes the incarnation is a unique event revealing the Second Person of the Trinity. Thus, we do not have something like Christophanies prior to the incarnation.

Second, the text of Hebrews does not support this view. The author says Melchizedek resembles the Son of God (Heb 7:3), not that he is the Son of God. Hebrews presents Melchizedek as someone like Christ, not Christ himself. Further, contrary to the author’s description of Melchizedek (Heb 7:3), Jesus has a Father, and Hebrews makes much of this fact. Jesus also has a mother. He has a human genealogy coming from the line of Judah, as Hebrews points out (Heb 7:14).

Madison notes how Jewish traditions, especially material from Qumran, developed highly-elevated reflections on Melchizedek. He comes to be described as a heavenly or angelic figure associated with eschatological deliverance, divine judgment, and priestly service in the heavenly realm. Thus, by the time Hebrews is written, Melchizedek has become more than just a minor king from Genesis in the Jewish imagination. He had become a figure around whom important priestly and heavenly themes cluster.

According to Madison, Hebrews seems to operate in that interpretive atmosphere. The author of Hebrews may be aware of these perspectives, even if he does not fully identify Melchizedek as an angelic being. Yet this broader Jewish tradition may help explain why Melchizedek would be such a rich figure for Hebrews to use.

How Melchizedek resembles Jesus in Genesis 14

The author provides a detailed reading of Genesis 14 in Hebrews 7:1–3:

• He highlights the meaning of Melchizedek’s name (etymologically צַדִּיק/צֶדֶק + מֶלֶךְ), which means “king of righteousness.”
• He observes that Melchizedek is “king of Salem.” The word “Salem” (שָׁלֵם) relates to שָׁלוֹם (shalom, “peace”), making Melchizedek “king of peace.”
• Importantly, Salem is that same city that will eventually be renamed Jeru-salem.
• Yet not only is Melchizedek a king, he is also a “priest of the Most High God.”

Melchizedek shares many important similarities with Christ. Whereas the Mosaic law separated priest and king, Melchizedek embodies both roles, exemplifying an order of priest that is simultaneously royalty. In this way, Melchizedek resembles and anticipates Jesus who, in distinction from the Levitical priesthood, is both priest and king. Not only that, but Melchizedek is the king of Jerusalem, which importantly is the city where David reigned, from whom Christ descends.

Finally, Hebrews describes Melchizedek as being “without father or mother or genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life, but … continues [as] a priest forever” (Heb 7:3). One explanation is that because the narrative of Genesis does not mention Melchizedek’s ancestry, birth, or death, the author of Hebrews is able to treat these things as if they don’t exist. He’s described as if he has no beginning or end, so resembling Christ. Another possibility is that Hebrews is drawing on Psalm 110’s declaration that this priesthood is “forever,” taking “forever” to refer to both directions: not merely perpetually into the future but eternally from the past.

Given all of these details, the figure of Melchizedek provides clues to understanding Jesus’s identity as priest. He is of different and superior order than the Levitical priesthood; namely, his priesthood is of the order of Melchizedek.

Why is Abraham’s tithe to Melchizedek so significant?

The author of Hebrews highlights (1) that Abraham gave Melchizedek a tenth of his spoils and (2) that Melchizedek blessed Abraham (Heb 7:1–2). Our author develops the significance of these things in Hebrews 7:4–10: Melchizedek’s interaction with Abraham in Genesis 14 shows how great he is.

First, the Mosaic law would eventually assign tithes to the Levites. They received a tenth from Israel because of their priestly service (Num 18:21, 26; 2 Chron 31:4, 5). So when Abraham gives a tenth to Melchizedek, the author of Hebrews sees more in this than a mere act of generosity. He sees a priestly relationship at work. Melchizedek appears to be receiving what the law will later associate with priests. And because Levi is descended from Abraham, Hebrews makes the striking claim that Levi, in the sense that he descends from Abraham (he was “in the loins” of Abraham; Heb 7:10), paid tithes to Melchizedek through Abraham. In other words, even before the existence of the Levitical priesthood, its priestly order is shown to be subordinate to Melchizedek’s. Likewise, if Christ’s priesthood is of the order of Melchizedek, he is a superior priest to the Levitical one.

Madison points out how the author of Hebrews allows the Mosaic law, specifically its law of tithing, to shed light backward on Genesis. The law did not yet exist in Abraham’s day, but interestingly Hebrews reads Genesis 14 in light the law and treats this as a legitimate interpretive move.

Second, Melchizedek’s blessing of Abraham reinforces this same point. Hebrews maintains that the lesser is blessed by the greater. Thus, if Melchizedek blesses Abraham, then Melchizedek is the superior in that encounter. On top of this, Abraham is no insignificant figure: He is the patriarch, the one who received God’s promises. If Melchizedek stands above Abraham of all people, that implies that Melchizedek must be extraordinarily great—and so too Jesus whose priesthood finds its explanation in Melchizedek’s.

How Jesus’s priesthood is superior to the Levitical priesthood

In Hebrews 7:11–28, the author connects all of this to Jesus’s priesthood.

If “perfection” could have come through the Levitical priesthood, there would have been no need for another priest to arise according to the order of Melchizedek (Heb 7:11). But Psalm 110 announces such a priest (Ps 110:4; quoted in Heb 5:6; 7:17, 20; cf. Heb 1:13). In speaking of another priesthood, the psalm in principle anticipates the end of the Levitical one (see the comparable logic in Heb 8:13). The Levitical priesthood was never the final reality.

Madison argues that “perfection” here (Heb 7:11, 19, 28) refers not to moral flawlessness, but to the transformation Jesus undergoes in his resurrection. Jesus is “made perfect,” not because he moved from sinfulness to holiness, but because his humanity passed through death into resurrection-life. So Hebrews explains that Jesus’s priesthood was established by his “indestructible life” (Heb 7:16). His resurrection qualifies him for an eternal priesthood.

In contrast to this “perfection,” the levitical priests were “weak” (Heb 7:18, 28), meaning their ministry was eventually prevented by death (Heb 7:23). Jesus’s priestly ministry is superior to theirs because it continues “forever” (Heb 7:17, 21, quoting Ps 110:4; see also Heb 7:3). So, our author concludes, Jesus “holds his priesthood permanently” (Heb 7:24), “able to save to the uttermost” because he “always lives to make intercession” (Heb 7:25).

Jesus becomes the guarantor of a better covenant (Heb 7:22), not because the old covenant was worthless, but because it could not accomplish the final transformation and enduring access to God that Christ now provides (Heb 7:23–28).

If Jesus is not from the tribe of Levi, how can he serve as a priest?

Yet the Mosaic law established its priesthood based on ancestry, specifically descent from Levi and Aaron. Moses said nothing about priests coming from the tribe of Judah, to which Jesus belongs. So if Jesus truly is a priest, his priesthood must be according to a different order not according to that of the Mosaic law, and this change in priesthood entails a change in the law (Heb 7:12–14, 18, 28). Genesis 14 and Psalm 110 supply the needed category: The resurrected Jesus is a priest foreveraccording to the order of Melchizedek.

Here we return to the role of oaths in the author’s argument. Unlike the Levitical priests, who were established based on ancestry (“on the basis of a legal requirement concerning bodily descent”; Heb 7:16), Jesus becomes priest through a divine oath. To back this up, the author quotes Psalm 110:4 in which “The Lord has sworn” concerning Jesus: “You are a priest forever.” This entails that God will not “change his mind” (Heb 7:20–21, 28).

Madison observes: In Hebrews 6:13–18, our author has already stressed that God’s oath-making guarantees the certainty of his promises. So likewise here in Hebrews 7, by appealing to God’s oath, the author shows not only that Jesus has become a priest, but that his priestly ministry is unchangeable, permanent, and secure. God has sworn it. Jesus’s priesthood cannot be replaced or revised. The earlier priesthood belonged to an order marked by mortality and repetition. Christ’s priesthood belongs to a permanent order established by God’s own sworn word.

Why this passage matters for believers

All of this said, Hebrews 7 is not intended for mere theological reflection. It aim is to promote hope for persevering in the faith. The point is not to leave readers fascinated by Melchizedek but to leave them enamored with the superiority of Christ and his priestly ministry.

As Madison points out, this is the first time the book identifies what Jesus offers as priest: himself (Heb 7:27). Jesus is both priest and sacrifice! Humanity was the problem, but through the incarnate Son the humanity of Christ becomes the means by which its solution is accomplished. The Son becomes truly human, passes through death, is perfected through resurrection, and now extends the benefits of that perfected life to his people.

Hebrews 7 gives believers confidence that their access to God does not depend on a temporary priesthood, repeated sacrifices, or human weakness. It rests on the living Christ, whose priesthood will never end.

Advice for preaching or teaching Hebrews 7

Madison’s main counsel for teaching Hebrews 7 is to avoid getting entangled in speculative questions about Melchizedek’s exact identity. Those questions may be interesting and may illuminate the passage’s background, but they are not the final aim of the passage. This passage is not trying to solve the riddle of Melchizedek. It is using Melchizedek to reveal the greatness of Christ. Thus, when working through Hebrews 7, one’s task is to show what Melchizedek teaches us about Jesus.

Preachers should trace the argument of the text for their hearers. Kirk advises helping your listeners understand the logic of the text, particularly its use of the Old Testament, to unlock its meaning for them.

The result? A passage that initially feels complicated and sealed off will become one full of comfort. Jesus is not a temporary helper within an inherently limited system. He is the climactic high priest to whom the whole system was always pointing.

Because he lives forever, his priesthood is permanent.

Because he offered himself, his sacrifice is sufficient.

Because God swore an oath, his ministry is secure.

And because of all this, Christians have a better hope by which they draw near to God.

Logos values thoughtful and engaging discussions on important biblical topics. However, the views and interpretations presented in this episode are those of the individuals speaking and do not necessarily reflect the official position of Logos. We recognize that Christians may hold different perspectives on this passage, and we welcome diverse engagement and respectful dialogue.

Let us know what you think

How does Melchizedek anticipate Christ’s eternal priesthood? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Madison Pierce’s recommended resources

• Eric F. Mason, You Are a Priest Forever
• David M. Moffitt, Atonement and the Logic of the Resurrection
• Madison N. Pierce, Divine Discourse in the Epistle to the Hebrews

Suggested commentaries on the book of Hebrews

Hebrews, 2 vols. (Word Biblical Commentary, Volume 47: a-b | WBC)

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Hebrews: A Call to Commitment

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The Epistle to the Hebrews, Revised (The New International Commentary on the New Testament | NICNT)

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The Epistle to the Hebrews (The New International Greek Testament Commentary | NIGTC)

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Hebrews: Evangelical Biblical Theology Commentary (EBTC)

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Hebrews (Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament | ZECNT)

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Hebrews (Tyndale New Testament Commentaries | TNTC)

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A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (New International Commentary | NIC)

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Hebrews (The Crossway Classic Commentaries | CCC)

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An Exposition of Hebrews

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Paul’s words to his protégé, Timothy, inform the aim of pastoral training in every generation:

What you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also. (2 Tim 2:2 ESV)

We are to raise up faithful leaders who will be able to instruct the church in sound doctrine.

One way to accomplish this task is through a pastoral internship: a definite amount of time given to training aspiring leaders for the prospect of pastoral ministry.

Although many pastors recognize the need to “entrust [the gospel] to faithful men,” many feel they lack the infrastructure, budget, or capacity to do it well. Yet whether you pastor a large or a small church, whether you’re full-time or bivocational, I firmly believe you already have everything you need to train aspiring pastors.

While no two internships (or churches, for that matter) are alike, the essential ingredients remain the same: 

1. Faithful, qualified leaders
2. Development in sound doctrine and piety
3. Practical, hands-on experience
4. Meaningful feedback and guidance

Let’s consider these four elements.

1. Aspiration

“If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task” (1 Tim 3:1). This statement by the Apostle Paul establishes two foundational principles for training future pastors:

1. Pastoral ministry is good work.
2. The goodness of this work commends aspiration. 

Sometimes people can be discouraged from aspiring to ministry out of fear of becoming proud or presumptuous. But Paul seems to suggest this kind of godly ambition is to be encouraged. Given this, the first step to building a pastoral internship is to openly commend godly, ministry-focused ambition with the aim of identifying and equipping pastoral prospects. 

But how are such individuals to be identified? Seven qualities come to mind: 

1. Faithful: Above all else, he is not to be a recent convert (1 Tim 3:6) but a maturing individual who demonstrates steadfast faith in the Lord Jesus Christ (1 Cor 15:58). Can anything greater be expected of a gospel steward than that he “be found faithful” (1 Cor 4:2)?
2. Responsible: Is he a good steward of his time, resources, and relationships? More of a doer than a dreamer, does he “bear his own load” (Gal 6:5) and “work heartily for the Lord” (Col 3:23)?
3. Dependable: Look for those who independently finish what they start. If someone needs his hand held through every task, he will be a burden. But the Bible says that one who is able to ingeniously fulfill his duties is like a cold drink on a hot day to those who send him (Prov 25:13).
4. Teachable: Avoid “puffed up” individuals at all costs (1 Cor 8:1). Instead, look for those who are humble and seek out knowledge with “discerning hearts” and “wise ears” (Prov 18:15).
5. Sociable:⁸¹ If someone likes to learn but does not like people, he cannot be a pastor. He must take a genuine interest in others with the intent of doing them spiritual good. Look for those who value their fellow church members. Does he arrive early to church and linger afterward? Is he hospitable? Does he pursue all kinds of people? Would-be pastors should love being “among the flock” (1 Pet 5:2).
6. Agreeable: Look for a man who eagerly pursues unity (Eph 4:2) and lives in harmony with everyone, as he’s able (Rom 12:16). You want to train up uniters, not dividers—the kind of person who does not “major in the minors” but is adept at finding common ground through Christ.
7. Accountable: All leaders are followers: followers of Christ, first and foremost. But also, in his ministry as a member, he willingly submits himself to the church’s leadership. If a man will not follow, he cannot lead. This does not mean he is a “yes man,” but that he is humble in his attitude toward godly authority. Look for those who are a joy rather than a headache to lead (Heb 13:17). 

Let me offer a final word on aspiring leaders: A pastoral internship need not be limited exclusively to future pastors. Many churches would benefit from simply providing a clear path for saints who want to be strengthened spiritually and equipped ministerially.

Some individuals know this about themselves and will take initiative to apply or join your internship. Other worthy candidates may not see in themselves what you see in them. An internship may be the very thing that grows their confidence in the Lord, in their gifts, and in their service to the church. My advice to pastors is to go after the ones you want. Cast a vision for their growth. Invite them to pray about the opportunity. And affirm to them: “You can do this!” Sometimes, all a faithful member needs is a simple vision and some encouragement to knock them off the fence.

2. Education

Once you find the right kind of intern (or interns), turn your attention to laying strong foundations in two essential areas: doctrine and devotion.

i. Doctrine

Throughout the Pastoral Epistles, the Apostle Paul emphasizes the importance of sound doctrine for churches. He exhorts Timothy to closely watch his life and doctrine (1 Tim 4:16) and to commit himself to “the teaching that accords with godliness” (1 Tim 6:1). Titus was charged to “teach sound doctrine” (Titus 1:9; 2:1) with “integrity, dignity, and sound speech that cannot be condemned” (Titus 2:7). Paul then summarizes the doctrinal content of a faithful ministry:

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. (Titus 2:11–15)

More could be included, but Paul manages to lay out in a mere four verses what doctrines Christ’s under-shepherds are tasked to guard and teach:

• The glory and grace of the triune God
• revealed in his plan of salvation,
• accomplished by the death of Jesus Christ,
• and applied to his redeemed and purified church
• that they might live godly lives in the world 
• as they await the second coming of Jesus.

In so many lines, Paul establishes his pastoral interns (so to speak) in a doctrinally sound confession. Timothy and Titus and the many men to whom this doctrine was entrusted (2 Tim 2:2) were to know, teach, and guard this confession.

Whether through the reading of good books, guided study, or seminary partnerships, pastors must provide pastoral interns with theological education to do the same. 

ii. Devotion

Sound doctrine may be essential, but it’s not exceptional. A man cannot have godly piety without sound doctrine, but he can have sound doctrine without godly piety. Puffed up pastoral interns who divorce their knowledge from the enjoyment of God will neither grow in godliness nor endure in ministry.

To these ends, aspiring leaders must be trained in devotion as well as doctrine. Matthew Bingham’s recently published book, A Heart Aflame for God (Crossway, 2025), is a generally useful guide. He identifies three foundational areas that are key for spiritual formation:

1. Scripture: Spiritual formation is a “word-based affair.” No real spiritual growth is possible apart from God’s Word. Interns must learn to be attentive to Scripture, not merely for public teaching, but especially for guarding their own hearts and enjoying God. How will you build attentive Scripture reading into your pastoral internship?
   
2. Meditation: In a technological, social-media age that incessantly begs for our attention, how will the intern learn to follow Paul by fixing their minds on godly things (Phil 4:8)? By this, I don’t mean reading more books (Eccl 12:12) but growing in one’s ability to set aside time to deliberately sustain godly thoughts for the sake of growing in holiness. How will you build this kind of meditation into your internship?
3. Prayer: The intern must learn to pray in a way that his prayers become the primary way he praises and gives thanks to God (Ps 34:1) while believing Scripture’s promises that God will bless him through it (Matt 6:9–13; John 15:16). How will you prioritize prayer in your pastoral internship? 

A pastor must train interns to be both knowledgeable and godly by modeling godly piety. This is what translates mere knowledge about God to an enjoyment of God, which is necessary for a fruitful and enduring ministry. Lord willing, his pastoral interns graduate their internships confessing, “More so now than when I began, I love God, desire to be more like him, and aspire to serve others for his glory!”

Give your interns the world’s best Bible study tool to ground their ministry formation. Explore Logos for Church.

3. Participation

In addition to theological education and spiritual growth, a pastoral internship must be practical. Ideally, an intern will observe and participate in key areas of pastoral ministry, including but not limited to the following:

Teaching and preaching

• Preparation: Involve interns in the sermon preparation process. This might include co-working on an exegetical outline, gospel-connections, or practical applications.
• Training: Besides good books on teaching and preaching, consider ways to get interns engaged in actual Word-work. To this end, you might consider taking them to a nearby Simeon Trust workshop.
• Evaluation: Start a weekly sermon review meeting in which interns learn to offer godly encouragement and criticism of the most recent sermon.
• Preaching: If you want to train pastors, then would-be pastors need to preach. This might look like a lab-setting in which they preach to a smaller group, or perhaps to the whole church in a mid-week or Sunday evening service. Providing multiple opportunities for them to teach and preach, while providing an evaluation loop each time (see above), will help them grow in their skills.

Serving and leading

• Serving: Consider requiring a season of service in certain ministries of the church that encourage faithfulness in anonymity: weekly administration, children’s ministry, set up and tear down, etc. Those who are enthusiastic to serve the church in ways that are largely unnoticed and unappreciated—because it serves the church and not themselves—will grow in humility and are more likely to grow into sympathetic leaders.
• Leading: Following seasons of faithful, anonymous service, consider ways to integrate interns into public leadership roles. This might include teaching Sunday school classes, organizing evangelistic outings, or praying public prayers in the worship service.

Discipling and shepherding

• Discipling: As I’ve argued elsewhere, every disciple in the church should be discipling, with pastors as the chief disciplers in the church. How will you encourage pastoral interns to initiate discipling relationships that help other church members grow spiritually?
• Shepherding: Pastoral interns should be exposed to every aspect of pastoral leadership. Consider requiring attendance at elder and deacon meetings followed by debriefing opportunities. You might also bring them on pastoral visitations, as well as certain pastoral counseling sessions (with permission from the member).

4. Evaluation

Throughout the internships, schedule critical evaluations for each intern. These aim to help them grow in one or more of the areas above and will allow them an opportunity to evaluate the internship in connection with their expectations and desires.

Each intern is different, and there is no such thing as a one-size-fits-all program, so regular evaluations provide opportunities to better tune the internship to the particular needs of the interns as you go.

The best time to start is now!

Every pastor should commit himself to training future pastors (2 Tim 2:2), whether for vocational ministry or “lay” leadership. While one might build a program for the elements mentioned above, pastoral internships aren’t ultimately about programs but discipleship. And every pastor, regardless of church size and available resources, can commit himself to discipling at least one would-be church leader.

My encouragement: Don’t wait until your church grows to a certain size or you have the bandwidth to build an expansive program. Start now. The need for godly leaders is too great to delay! Assuming godliness and faithfulness in your ministry, you have everything you need: Give them yourself. Say, “Come, follow me as I follow Christ” (cf. 1 Cor 11:1).

A good pastor is the most valuable resource for training interns to become good pastors. Find one would-be pastor, give him yourself. Then find another … and another … and another, and keep going for as long as the Lord strengthens you for such a ministry.

Share your thoughts

How can churches develop pastoral internships? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Resources for your pastoral internship

The Path to Being a Pastor: A Guide for the Aspiring (9Marks)

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The Care of Souls: Book & Course Bundle (2 vols.; 2 courses)

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Mobile Ed: Preaching and Discipling Foundations Bundle (10 courses)

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Pastoral Care & Counseling: Advanced Study Bundle

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9Marks Internship Study Bundle

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The Christian Ministry, with an Inquiry into the Causes of Its Inefficiency, Vols. I & II

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Lectures to My Students (4 vols.)

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Dangerous Calling: Confronting the Unique Challenges of Pastoral Ministry (with Study Questions)

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The New Pastor’s Handbook: Help and Encouragement for the First Years of Ministry

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The Pastor’s Book: A Comprehensive and Practical Guide to Pastoral Ministry

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Editor’s note: This article is co-written by Mike and Naomi Bird.

Our son M was formally diagnosed in 2015 with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), autism spectrum disorder (ASD), and sensory processing disorder (SPD).

We already had two daughters and noticed that our bouncing baby boy was very different from his siblings. We initially put this down to boys being boyish. But then we began to notice certain things. Sometimes M struggled to match his energy for the task he was doing, whether at home, church, or kindergarten. At the same time, M also had the ability to engage in laser-like focus on some thing or topic that was well beyond his age. He had a peculiar mix of unruly raucousness and hypnotic concentration that was hard to explain.

For example, once we were walking along a beach and came across a rock pool. Three-year-old M immediately stopped, stared intently into the rock pool for about half a minute, then suddenly thrust his hand into the water and pulled out a fish! Yet the same boy could also find it hard to sit still in church during Bible-story time or craft activities.

With the birth of our second boy, T, who was active but far more able to regulate his attention and energy, the juxtaposition with M became more acute. On the advice of some perceptive teachers, we sought a diagnosis for M. Psychologists and pediatricians confirmed the ADHD, ASD, and SPD diagnoses.

The diagnoses brought relief at one level, but also sadness and especially grief, a grief for futures lost and fears we had not chosen. We were afraid that we would struggle to parent M and that he would struggle his whole life to fit into a world not made for him.

It can be hard to encounter those who treat your son or daughter differently because of their personal traits, quickly judge that your kid needs discipline not doctors, or spout a conspiracy theory about vaccines causing autism. It is hard for the child, too, who has to accept the fact that they are different, that while some things might be easier, most things are harder.

That said, we’ve been blessed by some great medical professionals, teachers, pastors, church friends, and family who not only accepted us and our son, but also embraced us with grace. They support us as we help M make his way in the world, participate joyfully in church, and advance in the way of Jesus Christ.

My wife (Naomi) and I (Mike) share in M’s journey as his parents. We want to see him grow and carry with him that faith that he was baptized into, so as to become a man who follows Jesus, is led by the Spirit, and aspires to give God glory in all things.

What we offer in this article is not a formula, manual, or to-do list for those who parent or pastor autistic children, but simply an account of what we’ve learned. Neither of us is a psychologist or pediatrician, but we are parents trying to love our son with the love that God has poured into our hearts for him.

But first …

What is autism?

Autism is a condition that affects how a person thinks, feels, interacts with others, and experiences their environment. There is a full definition and explanation in the DSM-5 of the diverse ways that autism is expressed. As we might summarize them, the main characteristics are:

1. Underdeveloped social skills and emotional intelligence.
2. Difficulty with reading people and expressing feelings and thoughts.
3. Difficulty building lasting relationships.
4. Idiosyncratic behavior or fixated interests.
5. Difficulties in deviating from routine.
6. Hyperactivity and hyposensitivity varyingly exhibited as a lack of impulse control, difficulty in applying appropriate attention to a task, and a propensity for constant distraction.

Research practical topics like Autism using Logos’s Factbook.

A key thing to note is that autism is a spectrum. People experience it in different ways, ranging from some who are non-verbal to others who function and live independently. Some can be hypersensitive—feel triggered by noise and various stimuli—while others are hyposensitive—they crave stimulation even as they struggle to regulate their energy levels and mood in a given situation.

If you know one autistic child, then you know one autistic child. They are all different and their needs are different. Every autistic individual is unique with no single box that they all fit into, hence the preferred term “neurodiverse.”

Advice for parents

So how do you take your neuro-spicy child to church in a way that does not get your child ostracized but creates a wholesome environment for your entire family? Here are some things we’ve learned that we recommend to others.

1. Be flexible

When it comes to nurturing your neurodiverse child in the faith, there is no secret sauce, there is no rulebook, there is no list of dos and donts that provides a guaranteed, foolproof, and surefire way to draw them into the love of God or build them up into spiritual maturity. Each child is different, has different needs, different triggers. Each requires their own specific suite of support, care, and activities to help them enjoy church, learn the Bible, and grow in their love for God and for others.

Parenting a neurodiverse child involves trial and error, trying new things, and thinking outside of the box. It requires working with doctors, teachers, and other parents.

2. Communicate

Consider arranging a meeting with a church’s youth leaders to let them know the situation of your child. This can help immensely. Leaders need to know that autistic kids need a little bit more care and attention, even while it doesn’t mean they have to tolerate intolerable behavior.

This entails briefing children and youth ministry leaders, but also getting feedback from them. Most importantly, it means talking to your neurodiverse child. Include them in conversations about them wherever possible.

3. Accept imperfections

You need to accept that meltdowns happen, tantrums will be thrown, tears will be cried, and some people might not always respond with graciousness. The mess and stress is okay.

Advice for churches, pastors, and ministers

The church hasn’t always done well interacting with disability and neurodiversity, but there are encouraging stories. Thankfully, we live in a time when diversity and disability are getting a lot more attention in practical theology and the training of pastoral leaders.⁸⁴

Churches can consider the following ways to support autistic children and their families.

1. Acknowledge the prevalence of disability

The disabled make up a big part of your ministry. According to the World Health Organization, one in six people in the world have a disability. Additionally, some disabilities will be invisible to the naked eye. People can be born with a disability, acquire a disability by injury or illness, or age into disability.

Caring for the disabled is an important part of ministry. So get read-up, learned-up, and trained-up on how to minister to people with physical and cognitive disabilities.

2. Be humble

If you are not a pediatrician, then don’t speak with the confidence and authority of one. Instead, seek to listen and learn from neurodiverse people and their families.

When it comes to autism and neurodiversity “be quick to listen and slow to speak” (Jas 1:19).

3. Train your volunteers and leaders

Train your youth leaders to care for families with neurodiverse children. If a church is to welcome families affected by neurodiversity, it needs to be a place where people have been trained about neurodiversity.

Don’t skimp. Children and youth ministry is not babysitting while wearing a WWJD bracelet. It is ministry, and one of the most important ones for the nurture, discipleship, and retention of kids in the Christian faith.

Whether you facilitate seminary courses or seminars with a local medical professional, include instruction on neurodiversity in your process of raising up children and youth ministry workers.

4. Provide a friendly environment

Perhaps the one thing that makes church and youth activities not only bearable but even enjoyable is their social dimension. If kids of various ages befriend an autistic child, leaders are kind and attentive, the environment is non-stress inducing, and the activities are fun, then that child is more likely to feel safe and enjoy church.

For example, we were able to take M to a special ministry called Light Up, which offered a praise, prayer, and worship program for children of different abilities. This proved to be a positive experience—especially M getting to ring the church bells—even as he enjoyed some activities more than others.

5. Implement a buddy system

Consider having some trusted older kids pair up with an autistic child to help them with prompts, transitions, activities, and paying attention. This works all the better if the two have common interests and a good rapport.

6. Offer quiet, safe places

Have a space in your church for kids who need to get away from noise, people, and bright lights so they can relax and reset.

For instance, our church started something called Quiet Place. When our Sunday school breaks into different groups, we provide a sensory experience for those who struggle with the normal format. Interestingly, we found we also attracted kids with anxiety issues or those who didn’t like the busyness and noise of the other groups. We’ve also provided tools and ways to assist those kids who struggle or don’t seem engaged. Naomi helped begin a sensory space for our church’s school holiday program—not an alternative program, but a space to reset and regulate when children felt too overwhelmed to participate in the main program.

7. Give regular encouragement

Encouragement is a gift that keeps giving. Reminding a parent or guardian that you see their struggle and share both their sadness and triumphs is one of the best ways to support them. Let them know that you and the church care for them and are there for them.

While your resources may be limited, your compassion and consideration need not be. Encourage them to persevere in parenting, faith, and the church, as many cannot imagine doing those things without the love and support of their church.

8. Offer a support group for parents

Start a neurodiverse parent group at your church. Chances are there is more than one family or parent in your congregation with a neurodiverse child.

As awareness of neurodiversity grows and diagnoses become more common, more parents will find themselves in a state of lament and confusion. It helps to have friends who offer not only empathy but also sympathy—people who can serve as caregivers and confidants, or simply can offer a shoulder to cry on.

9. Equip neurodiverse people to serve—not just be served

Neurodiverse people need to serve as much as be served within the church. The body of Christ is diverse in its gifts and abilities (1 Cor 12:1–21; Rom 12:3–8). To fully include the whole body entails both giving and receiving from one another (Gal 5:13; 6:2).

Someone with a disability may not appear to hold a significant role in the body. But God has gifted them with a unique purpose that ought to be fully expressed. It is good for neurodiverse people to be seen, but it is even better when they are valued to the point that they are allowed appropriate ways to serve the church as well.

As Prof. John Swinton argues, churches must move beyond mere inclusivity, where a disabled or neurodiverse person is simply tolerated, and instead embrace belonging. Belonging means disabled and neurodiverse people are valued for who they are and what they contribute and whose absence we would regret.¹⁰⁴

Conclusion

What we have shared here is our story and some of the lessons we have learned along the way. Some of this may resonate with you, though your story may look different—and that’s okay, because every autistic person is unique. Nonetheless, our hope is that this article provides both encouragement and practical advice for those navigating the challenges and joys of parenting a child on the spectrum.

Share your thoughts

How can local churches work to support and include neurodiverse individuals? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

The Bird’s recommended resources for further study

• Grant Macaskill, Autism and the Church: Bible, Theology, and Community. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2021.
• John Swinton, “From Inclusion to Belonging: A Practical Theology of Community, Disability and Humanness.” Journal of Religion, Disability and Health 16 (2012): 172–90.
• Barbara J. Newman, Autism and Your Church: Nurturing the Spiritual Growth of People with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Faith Alive Christian Resources, 2011.
• Stewart Rapley, Autistic Thinking in the Life of the Church. London: SCM, 2021.
• Kate Morris. The Extraordinarily Normal: Faith, Family, and Neurodivergence.
• Autism and Theology Podcast.
• Full Spectrum Parent.

Disability and the Church: A Vision for Diversity and Inclusion

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On the Spectrum: Autism, Faith, and the Gifts of Neurodiversity

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Additional resources of interest

Accessible Church: A Gospel-Centered Vision for Including People with Disabilities and Their Families

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Disability and the Church: A Vision for Diversity and Inclusion

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Disability and the Gospel

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The Bible, Disability, and the Church: A New Vision of the People of God

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Jesus and Disability: A Guide to Creating an Inclusive Church

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Why, O God? Suffering and Disability in the Bible and the Church

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Disability: Living into the Diversity of Christ’s Body (Pastoring for Life: Theological Wisdom for Ministering Well)

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Vulnerable Communion: A Theology of Disability and Hospitality

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Since at least the third century, exegetes have read the Scriptures according to a fourfold sense, also known as the quadriga. Although discrete senses of Scripture (e.g., historical, literal, spiritual) were recognized by early Church Fathers, the fourfold sense was first articulated as such by John Cassian (AD 360–435), and would be further systematized in the medieval period.¹⁰⁵

Interest in the fourfold sense in biblical exegesis has seen a resurgence in interest and application ever since the landmark multivolume work, Medieval Exegesis by Henri de Lubac, originally published in French from 1959 to 1963. More recent champions of the fourfold sense as an interpretive approach have included Peter J. Leithart and Patrick Schreiner, who has a forthcoming book on the quadriga.

Certainly, the quadriga is of great interest to those who study historical theology and the history of exegesis, but one may wonder, “Just how practical is it? Will it help me in my week-to-week sermon preparation?”

In this article I hope to show the usefulness of the quadriga for regular preaching. Throughout, I will use the figure of Samson in the book of Judges as a test case.¹⁰⁶ I don’t necessarily recommend structuring sermon delivery in quads, but the exercise is invaluable for preparation.

How is the quadriga useful for preaching?

The quadriga reads Scripture through four distinct but inseparable senses. Each sense may be related to some aspect of preaching the Scripture. Preaching Scripture through the quadriga forces the preacher to deal with all Scripture in a distinctly Christian way. Even if you are not entirely convinced about an inherent fourfold sense of Scripture or the underlying presuppositions behind the quadriga, it can be a useful preaching tool.

It stretches us out of our comfort zones and forces us to engage with the text in ways that will bear fruit for preaching—often in ways that our congregations need to hear. People need to hear about Jesus from the Scripture, even if we’re preaching from a text about skin conditions (Lev 13–14) or from a narrative about the Levite of Dan (Judg 17–18), in which not a single admirable character exists. No matter the sermon text, the quadriga helps us to better impress on hearers what God has done for us in Christ, and thus what God requires of us as an outworking of our faith in him.

What follows is a brief description of each of the four senses of Scripture as outlined by the quadriga, followed by its application to the story of Samson (Judg 13–16), with a focus on his annunciation and his status as a Nazirite (Judg 13).

The literal sense (reading the letter)

This is the exposition of the text, unfolding its historical and literary function. The literal sense includes considerations of historical context, intertextuality, and literary genre and devices. The literal is the basic sense from which all other senses must flow. If you miss this, or if you do not root the other senses in the literal sense, then you can become unmoored from the true meaning of the text. As Thomas Aquinas says, “all the senses are founded on one—the literal—from which alone can any argument be drawn.”¹⁰⁷

The literal sense includes attentiveness not only to a meaning behind the words on the page but the form of the text itself, its language, music, and rhythm. It also includes attention to intertextuality (how Scripture uses Scripture). Texts don’t exist in a vacuum but interact with each other.

Literally Samson

Samson’s story is the climax of the book of Judges. His birth is anticipated and foreshadowed almost from the beginning. The judge Shamgar, the son of the goddess Anat, who bears the name of a Hurrian solar deity,¹⁰⁸ slew six hundred Philistines with a cattle prod (Judg 3:31). A few chapters later, Deborah sings of a people with loosed hair who will offer themselves to YHWH (Judg 5:2);¹⁰⁹ she sings also of Shamgar (Judg 5:6), but she yearns for a future day when YHWH’s people will be like the sun, rising in might (Judg 5:31). Samson is the answer to Deborah’s prayer. His name means “little sun,” and he will surpass Shamgar’s six-hundred slain with his thousand, using the jawbone of a donkey (Judg 15:14–15).

When an angel appears to announce Samson’s birth to his mother (Judg 13:3), Israel is at a low point in its history. They are under the thumb of the Philistines and do not even call to God for help. In fact, they seem almost comfortable in their bondage.¹¹⁰ Manoah’s name means “place of rest,” and yet the land has no rest. His wife’s barrenness represents Israel’s spiritual barrenness. There is no peace with God, and so the angel will not eat their food (Judg 13:16). But the angel promises to the woman a child who would begin to save Israel from the Philistines. Because of his mission, he would be a Nazirite from the womb.

Numbers 6 gives us the law of the Nazirite. A man or a woman became a Nazirite by taking a vow to YHWH. During their vow, they were like temporary priests. Like the high priest, they were not to make themselves unclean (Lev 21:11; Num 6:6–8). They were not to drink wine or any other fruit of the vine (Num 6:3–4). Priests couldn’t drink wine while serving in the sanctuary (Lev 10:9), but Nazirites didn’t drink wine anywhere. To them, the whole world is YHWH’s sanctuary.

Most famously because of Samson, Nazirites were not to cut their hair until their vow was complete. Why is that? It’s because their hair is their crown, which they wear for as long as they are under the vow. In fact, n-z-r means “crown,” like the crown and turban worn by the high priest, on which was emblazoned the words: “Holy to YHWH” (Exod 29:6).¹¹¹ As long as the Nazirite wore his uncut hair, he or she was dedicated solely to God’s service. Thus, for Samson to be a Nazirite from the womb meant that he was consecrated like a priest, holy to YHWH, for all of his life.

When a Nazirite completed his vow, he offered every kind of sacrifice, all at once. He offered the near-bringing, the ascension, the sin offering, the grain and drink offerings, and a peace offering. At the end of his vow, he cut his hair—he removed his crown—and offered it on the altar together with the peace offering. Then he could rest and drink wine (Num 6:13–20).

But Manoah’s son will not bring Israel to their final resting place—he is only a beginning. Samson himself will never have rest. He is never to enjoy the fruit of the vine. He is never to remove his crown because he is under the vow for life. He is to have no rest except in death. He will not complete the work of bringing rest to the land—that remains for David to do (2 Sam 7:1).

Samson’s birth seems almost supernatural. There is no mention of Manoah having relations with his wife, and his wife even seems to suggest at first that the angel might be Samson’s father (see Judg 13:6)!¹¹²

Is Samson’s great strength a result of divine biological parentage? No, it’s clear that his strength is drawn from his dedicated status and from the Spirit of God that empowers him. Samson is the most Spirit-filled person in the Old Testament. The Spirit is always rushing upon him, moving him and enabling him to do mighty acts. But when Samson breaks his Nazirite vow by cutting his hair, the Spirit leaves him, and without the Spirit he is powerless (Judg 16:20). He has no strength in himself. Only when he once more prays to YHWH is he able to tear down the temple of Dagon and defeat the Philistines (Judg 16:28–30).

Samson is also a bridegroom seeking a bride. He wooed and married a Philistine, a woman of the gentiles, seeking an occasion to engage with the enemies of God (Judg 14:1–4). The man who tears apart lions (Judg 14:5–6) offered to her security, but she instead chose both loyalty and fear of her own people. Samson would have been bridegroom to her and was strong enough to defend her, but she rejected him and was destroyed (Judg 15:6).

After this, Samson was tempted by other women, to none of whom he extended the offer of marriage. He was called to loyalty to YHWH, but he split his loyalties and squandered God’s gift of the Spirit. Because of his folly he was ultimately betrayed by Delilah.

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The allegorical sense (reading through typology)

The allegorical sense teaches us what we are to believe based on the literal sense. It explores especially how a passage points to Christ and his work, and, because Christ has united the church to himself as his body, it speaks also of the church’s place in him. The presupposition of the second sense is that all of Scripture is ultimately about Jesus (John 5:46).

Although some texts may not appear to be directly about Christ or may seem irrelevant to our situation, typological reading follows the road signs and winding pathways to unveil the incarnate Word. Typology is the vehicle that transports the Scripture of Old Testament Law, Prophets, and Writings into the New Covenant.

Samson as type of Christ

Samson prefigures Jesus in striking ways, beginning with the announcement of his birth. An angel appears to both mothers—to Manoah’s wife and to the Virgin Mary (Luke 1:26–38). Samson is a Nazirite, holy to YHWH from his conception to his death. Gabriel also tells Mary that the child to be born to her would come through the power of the Holy Spirit, and so the child “will be called holy—the Son of God” (Luke 1:35). While the narrative of Samson’s birth is ambiguous, the conception and birth of Jesus is explicitly supernatural.

Both Manoah’s wife and Mary receive the news joyfully, while Manoah and Joseph both need later reassurances from the angel (Judg 13:8–20; Matt 1:18–25).

While Samson was only a “little sun,” Jesus Christ is the greater Sun, the Sun of righteousness (see Mal 4:2; Matt 17:2; Rev 1:16). Zechariah anticipates the immanent birth of Jesus, singing of it as “the sunrise [that] shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (Luke 1:78–79).

Jesus received the Spirit in full, which drove him to face the enemy (Luke 4:1). While Samson only began to deliver, Jesus delivered completely, from sin, death, and Satan—all greater enemies than the Philistines. Filled with that Spirit, Jesus lived a life dedicated fully to his Father’s work. It is possible that when Matthew 3:23 says Jesus went to reside in Nazareth, and the prophets were fulfilled that “He would be called a Nazarene,” the evangelist has a sort of wordplay in mind between Nazarene and Nazarite.¹¹³ Whether or not this is the case, the intense dedication and consecration of the Nazarite vow appropriately typifies the character of his mission.

Jesus made a kind of Nazirite vow (Luke 22:18)—and he completed it. He himself became the offering of every kind on the cross. Like Samson, it is only through his death that he defeated the enemy. Unlike Samson, through his resurrection, he not only began God’s deliverance, but finished it (Rom 4:25), ushering in the kingdom of God. The true Nazirite, Jesus, accepted the crown of his earthly priesthood and fulfilled his sacrifice. Then he removed the crown of thorns and put on the crown of life.

Unlike Samson, who succumbed to the temptation of Delilah, Jesus resisted the temptation of the devil and of the flesh (Matt 4:1–11) and remained loyal to his bride, the church (John 3:29; Eph 5:25–32). Jesus, the great bridegroom who is strong to defend, woos the nations and draws them to himself. Although there are harlots and false brides, Jesus is ever faithful, loyal to only one—one whom he will vindicate and glorify. Moreover, the church is a bride who, unlike Samson’s false bride, will also prove loyal to her bridegroom by God’s grace, because the Spirit is given to her as well (Rev 17:5; 19:1–7; 22:17).

The tropological sense (the “so what?”)

The tropological teaches us faith and practice. It applies the Scripture to the hearer. This sense is always appropriate because all texts are about Christ’s people. Tropology that does not go through typology tends toward moralism—using the biblical narratives merely as positive examples for us to follow or abject examples to caution us: “Be like Joshua; have courage.” Or, “Don’t be like Samson, that loose cannon.”

An old adage cited by de Lubac goes, “The fruits of tropology can come only after the flowers of allegory [typology].”¹¹⁴ By reading typologically, it is, in fact, possible to get to something like a more nuanced form of the applications mentioned above without falling into the trap of simplistic moralizing.¹¹⁵

Samson: types of Christ’s people

You are called to this same calling—the calling of Samson to be like Christ. It is not only Jesus, but his people who will shine like the sun (Matt 13:43; 2 Cor 3:12–18).

Samson was presented as a type of the son of God. In Jesus Christ, through the leading of his Holy Spirit, you have been made true sons of God (Rom 8:14–17). Your birth is supernatural, not of blood, or the will of flesh, or the will of men, but of God (John 1:12–13).

You are his Nazirites, dedicated to God. Like Samson, your vows have no end—they will not end even with your death. You are always to be holy, consecrated for God’s service as Jesus was (John 17:19). But, your holiness is on this side of Christ’s victory. So, your holiness looks different from Samson’s.

Samson had no rest, and so abstained from the fruit of the vine. But through Jesus Christ, you have a resting place, even while engaging in your holy war against sin and every kind of evil (Eph 6:12; 1 Pet 2:11). Satan is now a defeated foe, disarmed and stripped naked by the cross (Col 2:13–15).¹¹⁶ Even in the midst of your enemies, God sets a table for you, and Jesus, the Nazirite who has completed his work, invites you to drink wine in the sanctuary. You now have peace with God. So, he does not refuse your offerings today but invites you to eat with him (1 Cor 5:7–8; 11:23–26; Heb 13:10).

Jesus has not only put on the crown of life, but to the one who endures, he shares his crown (Rev 2:10). In baptism, you have been called by his name, marked on your forehead as a priest, holy to the Lord (1 Cor 6:11; Rev 14:1). This is life to you. Never remove this crown (Rev 3:11). Because, like Samson, you are Spirit-empowered—you have no strength in yourself. Since you are holy, live like those who are holy (Rom 12:1), consecrated to Christ’s service as his royal priesthood (Rev 1:6; 5:10).

Since you have rest in Christ, rest in him, trusting him. From Jesus, who sends the Helper (John 14:26; 15:26; 16:7), you have received the Holy Spirit to the measure of inebriation (Eph 5:18). So, walk not according to the flesh, but according to that Spirit, who empowers you (Rom 8:3–4).

Rest in Christ and the filling of the Holy Spirit does not mean life will be easy. The Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness to be tested and tempted by the devil. Our heavenly Father will also test us, so that his discipline will produce fruit in us (Heb 12:7–11). Our trials and persecutions may even result in our deaths. But for us, as with Christ, death brings only a crown (Rev 2:10). The conclusion will be our victory over sin and death, and over the world (John 16:33; 1 John 4:4; 5:4–5; Phil 1:21).

Jesus Christ is the bridegroom of the church. He came to woo sinners (Matt 9:15; John 3:29). Do not fear the world or let your loyalty waver, as Samson’s bride did. Take heart and trust in the one who has overcome the world (John 16:33). Be loyal also to the same bride for whom Christ died—to the church, the heavenly Jerusalem (Rev 21:9–11).

The anagogical sense (future-minded reading)

The anagogical sense teaches us what we are to hope for as believers. It reminds us that all of Scripture is concerned not only with the past history, or even just the here and now, but points us forward to the consummation of all things in Jesus Christ.

Hope in the head-crushing conqueror

Samson’s final performance brought down the house (of Dagon), cutting off the heads of Philistia and leaving them leaderless.¹¹⁷ Jesus’s death and resurrection not only defeated Satan and swept away the need for earthly shadowy sanctuaries (Heb 8:5–6), but it laid the foundation for a new house, a spiritual temple not made with hands, which is being built up in us, his living stones (1 Pet 2:4–7; Eph 2:19–22).

Through Jesus Christ, our high priest, you have come up to Mount Zion (Heb 12:22). But that heavenly Jerusalem has not yet fully descended to earth. Like John, we wait with eager anticipation for her continued unveiling in history (Rev 21:2–4).

The greater Sun has conquered through his cross, and he calls us to join him in his continuing work to fill the world with the knowledge of God (Matt 28:18–20). We will suffer resistance and persecution in that mission, but the one who conquers will soon crush Satan—under our feet (Rom 16:20; Luke 21:16–18). Our work will not be in vain. Our Lord’s victory assures ours, as well.

Christ’s victory over sin, death, and Satan is much more than Samson’s victory over the heads of the Philistines, Israel’s oppressive gentile neighbors. But it is not less. YHWH’s subduing of the nations is an expectation throughout the Old Testament, not only in the Samson narrative (2 Chron 20:6; Ps 2:8; 47:3; 79:1; 82:8; 111:6, Isa 60:5; Jer 16:19; Dan 7:14; 4:34–35; Zech 14:14). That hope of God’s reign over the whole earth does not disappear in the New Testament. It is accomplished in Jesus. And so, Christ claims kingship not only over spiritual powers, but over the earthly rulers and authorities, as well (Matt 28:18; Phil 2:9–11; 1 Cor 15:24–27; Col 1:16–20; Rom 13:2–4). All authority has been given to him in heaven and on earth, and the mission he gives to the church to disciple the nations of the world flows from that authority.

Finally, Samson, the “little sun,” points us to the sun-like light of Christ and his people now, but he also points us to a greater day, a day when we will no longer have need for a sun, because we shall live in light of God (Rev 22:5). The great bridegroom will prove himself strong to save, putting down the oppressors of his bride. He will invite us to the great marriage supper of the Lamb (Rev 19:1–9).

Conclusion

The God we serve is infinite, and his revelation in Scripture is a gloriously multifaceted treasure trove of wisdom. The Apostle Paul expressed his desire to unveil those glories in his preaching:

To me, though I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, and to bring to light for everyone what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God, who created all things, so that through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places. (Eph 3:8–10; emphasis mine)¹¹⁸

May God grant us the same desire for our own preaching. Not that people should hear our words but that we might be instruments of God’s word—prisms refracting the glory of Christ’s riches into a kaleidoscope of glorious color.

The contention over the proper view of the sense of Scripture will no doubt continue with good exegetes on both sides of the debate. However, I hope this brief exploration has demonstrated that the quadriga can be a practical tool, especially suited to convey the depth of Scripture in our preaching.

Share your thoughts

How should we preach the Samson narrative? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Christopher Kou’s recommended resources

• De Lubac, Henri. Medieval Exegesis: The Four Senses of Scripture. Translated by Mark Sebanc and E. M. Macierowski. 3 vols. Eerdmans, 1998–2009.
• Jordan, James B. Judges: A Practical and Theological Commentary. Wipf & Stock, 1999.

Figural Reading and the Old Testament: Theology and Practice

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The Four Senses of Scripture: Learning from Ancient Ways of Reading the Bible

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Mere Christian Hermeneutics: Transfiguring What It Means to Read the Bible Theologically

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Further reading

• David, Goliath—& Jesus? A Familiar Story’s Fourfold Sense
• Typology’s Logic: Chekov’s Gun & Bible Interpretation
• The Christological Character of Typological Reading
• How Old Testament Typology Reveals Shadows of Salvation

In this episode of What in the Word?, Kirk E. Miller talks with Richard Middleton about one of Christian theology’s most foundational and widely discussed ideas: humanity as the image of God (imago dei). Yet despite how important this concept is, its meaning has long been debated. Does the image of God refer to some special human trait, like reason? Does it describe our capacity for relationship? Or is it primarily about a task God has given humanity? Together Kirk and Richard discuss Genesis 1:26–28 and unpack its theological implications.

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Episode guest: Richard Middleton

J. Richard Middleton is professor emeritus of biblical worldview and exegesis at Northeastern Seminary and Roberts Wesleyan University in Rochester, NY. A native of Jamaica, he immigrated to Canada for graduate studies and moved to the USA for a teaching position. He is past president of the Canadian-American Theological Association (2011–2014) and the Canadian Society of Biblical Studies (2019–2021).

Middleton’s research area is Old Testament theology with a focus on creation, suffering, and the ethics of power. He is the author of five books; the most recent are The Liberating Image: The Imago Dei in Genesis 1 (Brazos, 2005); A New Heaven and a New Earth: Reclaiming Biblical Eschatology (Baker Academic, 2014); and Abraham’s Silence: The Binding of Isaac, the Suffering of Job, and How to Talk Back to God (Baker Academic, 2021). He is currently working on two new books, one on the power dynamics between prophet and king in 1 Samuel and the other on biblical worldview for our troubled times.

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Episode synopsis

Setting the scene: the summit of the creation

As Richard Middleton explains, if the three most important aspects of real estate are “location, location, location,” so too the three most important parts of biblical interpretation are “context, context, context.” For Genesis 1:26–28, this means,

1. Attending to its immediate literary context: its place within the creation narrative of Genesis 1:1–2:3.
2. Interpreting Genesis 1:26–28 alongside other creation texts, most notably Genesis 2 but also passages like Psalm 8 and Psalm 104.
3. Considering how the rest of Scripture develops the idea of the image of God.

The creation account in Genesis 1 consists of six days that lead climactically to God’s creation of humanity. Note:

1. They are God’s final creation. Everything else has led up to this moment.
2. More text is spent on the creation of humanity than any other part of the creation account.
3. Finally, before creating humanity, God makes a unique announcement: “Let us make humankind in our image” (Gen 1:26). This elevated language signals that humanity has a distinctive role in God’s creation.

God assigns humanity a unique task, a particular vocation within God’s ordered world. Humans are to exercise dominion and subdue the earth, thereby reflecting and representing God’s own sovereignty.

Tragically, however, the story that follows shows how badly humanity misrepresents God, introducing sin and death into God’s good world instead of faithfully caring for it.

What makes interpretation difficult

The word “image” might suggest something visual. Yet, Kirk asks, what would it mean for humans to be the image of a God who is an invisible spirit (see John 4:24)? Thus this image must refer to some non-physical, invisible point of correspondence. But what, exactly, is that correspondence?

While the Bible uses this phrase, “image of God,” it nowhere defines or directly explains what it means. This silence leaves room for theological speculation and disagreement.

According to Richard, such speculation has often involved imposing ideas disconnected from Scripture. Throughout history, many theologians have detached the phrase from its original context in Genesis and filled it with ideas based elsewhere.

The 3 primary views

There have been three primary views on what the image of God is.

Importantly, each of these views says true things about humans. Thus, the point of disagreement between the views is not whether what they affirm is true, but whether what they propose is specifically what it means to be God’s image.

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1. The substantive view: humanity’s unique quality

The dominant view in Christian theology across history maintains that the image of God refers to some shared quality between God and humanity, usually rationality. This view has often been called the substantive view because it identifies the image with some aspect of human nature (or substance).

According to this view, because God is understood to be an invisible divine mind, human beings image God through their rational soul or mind. Human reason, morality, or creativity becomes humanity’s distinguishing trait from all other creatures, and thus the defining feature of the image of God. Richard argues that this interpretation became dominant, in part, because early Christians expressed their faith using Greek philosophical categories, especially Platonic ones. The result was an understanding of the image of God that focused on immaterial, intellectual qualities.

A weakness of this view is that it seems foreign to the text of Genesis 1. The passage does not seem concerned directly with humanity’s invisible faculties.

Additionally, if the image of God is identified with rational capacity, this would seem to undermine the status of those whose cognitive abilities are inferior (e.g., infants, the mentally disabled). If rationality defines the image, this would seem to demand that diminished rationality means diminished dignity. Yet Scripture clearly rules out this conclusion.

2. The relational view: humanity’s capacity for relationship

God is triune and thus inherently relational. Likewise, God created humanity for relationship: “male and female he created them” (Gen 1:27). From these observations, some theologians conclude that the image of God consists in humanity’s capacity for relationship—with God or additionally with one another. This view is often associated with figures such as Karl Barth.

A strength of this view is that it is based on features in the text of Genesis:

1. Directly before creating humanity in his image, God refers to himself in the plural, potentially signaling his own relational life (Gen 1:26).
2. Immediately following God’s creation of humanity in his image, he describes this as creation in the form of “male and female” (Gen 1:27).

Yet Richard contends that relationality alone does not explain the immediate emphasis in Genesis 1 on the ruling and subduing that follows (Gen 1:28). Of course, humanity was created for relationship. But the question is whether relationship is what the image of God means or whether relationship is one arena in which this image is lived out.

3. The vocational view: humanity’s appointment to represent God

A third view is often called the functional view, or as Richard prefers to call it, the vocational view. According to this interpretation, human beings are God’s image as those he has appointed to represent his rule in the world.

This view is based on Genesis 1:26 which specifically states that God made humanity in his image in order to rule over God’s creation (see the NET and NIV). In other words, humanity’s creation as the image of God is closely tied to this task and the delegated authority we are given.

Human beings are called to represent God by the way they order, cultivate, and care for God’s creation, thereby representing (or imaging) God’s own rule over creation. They are his vice-regents. As God’s earthly representatives, God has assigned humanity a royal-priestly role within his creation.

We see this in the very next chapter. God creates a garden and then places Adam in that garden to tend it. God is the first gardener, and then he makes Adam, his image, a gardener of his garden. In other words, God designs human action to reflect his own.

Although Psalm 8 does not use the phrase “image of God,” it explains that God has crowned humanity with glory and honor and given them rule over the works of his hands. Humanity’s royal vocation is central to what it means to be human, made as God’s image. Likewise, Psalm 104 portrays God providing a fruitful creation while humans transform its produce into wine, oil, and bread. Human beings are active agents within creation, cultivating and shaping it under God’s authority.

Royal images in ancient Near Eastern context

Some scholars observe how kings in the ancient world were often considered images (statues) of their gods, representing that deity. Likewise, the statue (idol) in a pagan temple was meant to represent its deity.

Like its surrounding ancient Near Eastern context, Genesis presents human beings as royal representatives of divine rule. If creation is God’s temple, humanity is his representative statue in that temple.

But importantly, Genesis democratizes this status. Not just kings or priests, but all human beings—male and female—are made in God’s image. In this way, Genesis critiques pagan religion with its social hierarchies.

The image as an indelible status with undiminished dignity

Although the image of God is vocational (functional), it should not be reduced to mere function, otherwise humanity would cease to be God’s image wherever it failed to execute this calling. To the contrary, we see throughout Scripture that humanity retains God’s image even after the fall and amidst its sin (Gen 5:3). For instance, Genesis 9:6 grounds the prohibition of murder in the fact that humans are made in God’s image. Likewise, James 3:9 says we ought not curse people who are made in God’s likeness. Our vocation remains even when it is distorted by sin.

As Richard explains, our status as God’s image is a gift before it is something we carry out. It is not a conditional function but God’s immutable appointment. To be the image of God is what it means to be human.

Thus, the dignity attached to being God’s image is not dependent on our performance. All human beings possess unshakable dignity, regardless of age, ability, sex, race, social status, or capacity. The doctrine of the image of God highlights not only our high calling and responsibility, but also our high status and worth. Every person is a VIP in God’s world.

Image-bearing as an undercurrent across Scripture

According to Richard, the idea of “the image of God” functions as an undercurrent throughout much of Scripture, even where its terminology is not used. As an example, he points to Proverbs 14:31, where to mistreat the poor is to show contempt for their Maker. Likewise, Jesus calls us to resemble our Father in heaven by serving others—even loving our enemies (Matt 5:43–48).

Yet the idea of the image of God surfaces explicitly at key points in Scripture. Since humanity failed in its original image-bearing vocation, God called Abraham to become a source of blessing to the nations. God turns his original command (“be fruitful and multiply,” i.e., increase the number of image-bearers) into a promise for Abraham (“I will multiply you greatly”; see Gen 17:2; 22:17). Later, God appoints Israel, Abraham’s descendants, as God’s representative kingdom of priests, echoing humanity’s assignment at creation (Exod 19:5–6). In fact, Israel was not to bear God’s image in vain (Exod 20:7). They are to be holy, resembling God’s own holiness (Lev 19:2). So God’s mission to restore humanity’s calling unfolds covenantally through his people until it reaches its climax in Christ.

The church then is that new humanity conformed to the image of Christ, the one who perfectly bears God’s image (e.g., Rom 8:29; Col 3:10; 2 Cor 3:18; 4:4). In Christ, humanity is being made into what it was always meant to be. So the Great Commission (Matt 28:18–20) carries forward the original creation mandate (Gen 1:26–28) as the church multiplies disciples among the nations. In this way, God fulfills his purpose, expressed to Abraham, to bless those nations.

Use Logos’s Smart Search to find all of the Bible’s references to the image of God. Start your free trial!

The image of God for preaching and discipleship

According to Richard, all of discipleship and sanctification is grounded in the imago dei.

• The image of God has ethical implications for how we treat each of our fellow human beings. Use whatever privilege and power you have for the good of others.
• It has moral implications, as we seek to reflect God faithfully in his world. Represent God’s character.
• And it has missional implications as God’s people carry out the Great Commission. The church is “God’s royal priesthood,” representing God by announcing his excellencies to those around them (1 Pet 2:9).

The result is a vision of humanity that is both humbling and ennobling. Human beings are not autonomous. They are creatures. Yet they are also entrusted with a remarkable role in God’s world. We are made from dust (humbling), yet crowned as his image (dignifying). To bear the image of God is to belong to him, to matter deeply, and to be sent into the world as his representatives.

Preaching the image of God, therefore, should involve more than just discussion of its idea, but exhortation. The ideas in Scripture are always meant to shape people’s worldviews so that we might be increasingly faithful followers of Christ.

Logos values thoughtful and engaging discussions on important biblical topics. However, the views and interpretations presented in this episode are those of the individuals speaking and do not necessarily reflect the official position of Logos. We recognize that Christians may hold different perspectives on this passage, and we welcome diverse engagement and respectful dialogue.

Let us know what you think

What view do you find most convincing? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Richard Middleton’s suggested resources

The Liberating Image: The Imago Dei in Genesis 1

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Being God’s Image: Why Creation Still Matters

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A New Heaven and a New Earth: Reclaiming Biblical Eschatology

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Additional resources on the image of God

Identity and Idolatry: The Image of God and Its Inversion (New Studies in Biblical Theology, vol. 36 | NSBT)

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The True Image: The Origin and Destiny of Man in Christ

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Created in God’s Image

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An Introduction to Theological Anthropology: Humans, Both Creaturely and Divine

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Related content

• Is the Creation Story Literal? | Vern Poythress on Genesis 1:1–2:3
• What Does It Mean to Take God’s Name in Vain? | Carmen Joy Imes on Exodus 20:7
• What Does It Mean to Be Human? Theological Anthropology
• The Ideal Human: How Christ’s Humanity Defines Our Own
• What’s the Purpose of Work? How Vocations Participate in God’s Mission

Paul prays that we would comprehend God’s love “together with all the saints” (Eph 3:18). It’s easy for us to forget that “all the saints” includes those in the ancient past.

Opening up a book on church history is a good way to expose ourselves to the “cloud of witnesses” (Heb 12:1) across time and to expand our understanding of God’s love for all of us.

Table of contents

• Why should you read church history?
• What to look for in a good church history book
• Primary histories
• General histories
• Concentrated histories
• Important biographies
• Novelty histories

Why should you read church history?

Maybe you’re on the fence. You have your Bible, maybe a creed or confession or two. So why bother reading church history? There are a number of advantages for doing so that are specific to us Christians (besides the academic ones).

1. Strengthen your Christian identity by exercising virtues

History is a form of corporate memory, but “remembering” the past of our own faith can be confusing, disappointing, and even horrifying. In short, to study the history of the church is to study the history of the soul, writ large.

It forces us to confront the truth about who we are, with all our weakness, ignorance, and sin. We must reject the temptation to curate our past by hiding the “dirty laundry” of Christian history. Instead, recognizing the “log” in the eye of the church is an essentially devotional act (see Matt 7:3–5) that cultivates a deeper spirit of humility and repentance, both personally and corporately. To be deep in history requires the exercise of key virtues, especially charity, generosity, patience, and humility.

2. Get to know your family in Christ

Each of us has family members who are, at best, awkward. Some of us even have parts of our family who are legitimately abusive. Christianity is no different. Our history is as full of both bullies and saints. As John Dickson points out,

Violence has been a universal part of the human story. The demand to love one’s enemies has not. Division has been a norm. Inherent human dignity has not. Armies, greed, and the politics of power have been constants in history. Hospitals, schools, and charity for all have not. Bullies are common. Saints are not.¹¹⁹

Few things are as transformative as stepping outside our modern bubble and immersing yourself in the “communion of the saints.” Church history is not a dry, academic exercise. It is our corporate family memory. And just like our genetic family, there may be elements of the church’s history that are painful and can only be explored carefully, in the community of those who truly love us. Engaging with these texts prevents historical myopia and helps forge a resilient Christian identity by connecting us to the courage, struggles, and triumphs of believers who walked this path before us.

3. Stretch and refine your perspectives

As C. S. Lewis says in his famous preface to On the Incarnation, reading historical works helps us with our blind spots because ancient writers aren’t subject to the same biases and prejudices that we are.

Engaging with Christians of the past who thought, acted, and worshipped differently from us requires us to actively practice Christian virtues. It demands justice in our historical assessments, grace and forgiveness for their inevitable and sometimes horrific failings, and charity in how we interpret their legacy.¹²⁰

What to look for in a good church history book

Before diving into the list, it may help to know what makes a history book worth reading. A good church history book should not merely list dates and dead emperors.

1. It should employ rigorous historiographical criteria

What is the proper approach to history as a discipline? A historian must be driven by an honest pursuit of facts and evidence; while speculation, inference, supposition, and hypothesis have their place in historical work, a good historian makes plain to the reader when one or the other is being done. A historian should have mastery over the primary sources and recognize that ancient or medieval writers do not (usually) share modern concerns, interests, assumptions, or outlooks.

This raises an important question: Must a historian of church history be a Christian? While a Christian scholar may have certain advantages to researching a Christian subject, there are also advantages to reading secular historians. (In the list below, I recommend titles by both.) They are often better equipped to expose our blind spots and challenge the “triumphalism” that assumes our history is a flawless march of divine virtue. The pitfall of pietistic history is that it tends to whitewash the evils of Christendom to protect the church’s image. A proper historiographical approach demands a level of indifference, acknowledging that the past is a complex web of both virtue and violence.

2. It should draw you into the primary sources

Great historians don’t just tell you what happened. They deeply engage the primary sources—the ancient and medieval writings themselves—and encourage you to do likewise. Immersing yourself directly in these ancient sources is the only way to truly understand how early believers thought and felt and lived.

3. It should reflect high scholarly standards

The old adage warns us not to judge a book by its cover. However, most covers provide a wealth of information that should inform our assessment of the book’s contents and the standards to which they hold. Here are a few rules-of-thumb:

1. The first thing to consider is the author. Is their name recognizable? For newcomers to the field, this will be less useful, but over time, you will gain a mental library of important voices.
2. If they aren’t recognized, check their bio. What is their education? Is it in an appropriate field? Was it at a reputable institution?
3. Next, who endorsed the book? Did someone write a foreword? Are these people reputable? What kind of qualifications do they have? Are they professors, ministers, scholars? Are they based at a reputable institution?
4. Finally, check the publisher. It should go without saying that anything self-published is likely not worth your time (though there are rare exceptions to this rule). Like authorial recognition, building a list of reputable publishers will take time. Start with university presses. If Oxford University Press published it, it should be worth reading (though there are exceptions to this rule). If the press has “academic” in its name, that’s also a good sign.

Here’s how I apply these general rules. For those ready for a rigorous theological workout, Eastern Orthodox theologian John Behr offers his excellent Formation of Christian Theology in three volumes. Behr is a professor with the appropriate degrees, and his work is published by St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, which is widely recognized for publishing the works of Church Fathers. Catholic theologian Lewis Ayres offers a thorough analysis of the same period in his Nicaea and Its Legacy. Ayres is also a professor with the right degrees, and his work is published by Oxford University Press. Both books are endorsed by other reputable figures.

Let’s dive in!

The recommendations that follow are divided into primary histories (works of history that are also primary sources), general histories (modern academic works that cover the full scope of church history), concentrated histories (books that narrow on a particular aspect of history, such as doctrine, liturgy, ecclesiology, or spirituality), important biographies, and then finally, novelty histories (books which focus on interesting and sometimes humorous topics in history).

Primary histories

These are works of history that are also primary sources—the very texts our spiritual ancestors left behind.

1. Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History

Eusebius is the undisputed “father of church history.” Writing just as the church was emerging from brutal persecution and entering a new era under Constantine, he provides our only surviving record for many early Christian heroes. His work was expanded by later writers like Socrates, Sozomen, and Theodoret.

Why you should read it: Do not read this just for the names and dates. Read it to witness the staggering stories of the martyrs. Eusebius frames the church’s story as a spiritual war, highlighting believers’ “valor that tried so much and the trophies won from demons and victories over unseen opponents.”¹²¹ When you feel discouraged by the hostility of the modern world, Eusebius will remind you that the gates of hell have never prevailed against Christ’s church.

The Ecclesiastical History (4 vols.)

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2. The Venerable Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People

Written in the eighth century, Bede’s masterpiece details the conversion of the Anglo-Saxon tribes and the establishment of Christianity in Britain.

Why you should read it: Bede provides a breathtaking, ground-level view of how the gospel takes root in a pagan culture. Devotionally, it forces us to marvel at the sheer power of the gospel to transform societies, end barbaric practices, and bring light into genuine darkness. It will renew your faith in the power of evangelism.

Bede’s Ecclesiastical History (4 vols.)

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General histories

These modern academic works cover the broad, sweeping narrative of the church.

3. Bruce L. Shelley, Church History in Plain Language

Shelley’s classic text is renowned for making the complex, two-thousand-year story of the church incredibly accessible.

Why you should read it: Reading this book is a devotional exercise in recognizing God’s unwavering faithfulness. It provides a “quiet testimony that Jesus Christ will not disappear from the scene. His title may change, but his truth endures for all generations.”¹²²

Church History in Plain Language, 5th ed.

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4. Justo L. González, The Story of Christianity (2 vols.)

González offers a masterful, globally minded narrative that refuses to limit church history strictly to Western Europe.

Why you should read it: González challenges us to look at history by asking: “What did an average Roman hear when the gospel was first proclaimed to her? … What did the Aztec population understand when the first Franciscan missionaries spoke to them?”¹²³ Devotionally, this book will shatter your cultural blinders. It expands your empathy and helps you worship God alongside a truly global, multiethnic body of Christ.

5. John McGuckin, The Path of Christianity: The First Thousand Years

McGuckin provides a masterful intellectual and social history of the early church’s first millennium. He divides his work into two distinct halves: the first traces the chronological spread of the faith—pushing far beyond the traditional Greco-Roman focus to explore the church’s truly global expansion into Syria, Armenia, India, China, Nubia, and Ethiopia. The second half takes a thematic approach, exploring the specific ideas and structural challenges that obsessed early Christians, delving into topics like early Christian views on war, wealth, magic, women, prayer, and hymnography.

Why you should read it: McGuckin aptly describes church history as a “vast antique emporium”¹²⁴ where very little is ever truly thrown away, and where ancient concepts are surprisingly still pressed into daily use. Devotionally, reading this book will help you understand why your church looks, acts, and worships the way it does, both its stubborn resistance to change and its radical origins.

Furthermore, McGuckin refuses to let history remain a dry academic exercise. His stated goal is to reveal the “spiritual and radiant character of the church’s inner life,”¹²⁵ showing the soul that gave the early Christian movement its immense vitality. Reading this will not only shatter a strictly Western-centric view of Christianity by exposing you to the faith’s vibrant, ancient, and global diversity, but also deeply encourage you by showing how the Spirit of the risen Lord has always animated a fallible yet incredibly beautiful pilgrim church.

The Path of Christianity: The First Thousand Years

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Concentrated histories

These books zoom in on the historical development of a specific dynamic within Christian thought, worship, or practice.

6. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine (5 vols.)

Pelikan’s work is the gold standard for understanding how early Christians developed the doctrines we hold dear today (like the Trinity and the incarnation).

Why you should read it: Pelikan brilliantly chose to focus his history on the chorus of the church rather than just the soloists. Studying doctrine historically shows us that our core beliefs weren’t formulated in a vacuum. They were forged in fire, in defenses of the faith against paganism and heresy. It will anchor your personal faith in the solid bedrock of historical orthodoxy.

The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine (5 vols.)

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7. J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines

A staple for students of the early church, Kelly’s handbook gathers the diverse thoughts of ancient writers and shows how the early church clarified its understanding of God, Christ, and salvation. If you like his work, check out his Early Christian Creeds (Continuum, 2006), as well.

Why you should read it: Modern Christians often roll their eyes at ancient theological debates, assuming they are just splitting hairs. Kelly helps you realize that precise theology is the language of worship. Understanding why the ancients fought so hard for the divinity of Christ will ignite a deeper, more profound awe in your own prayer life.

Early Christian Doctrines

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8. Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture

Young explores how the early Church Fathers interpreted the Bible and how Scripture utterly replaced classical pagan texts to form a brand-new Christian culture.

Why you should read it: Modern Christians often read the Bible like a sterile instruction manual. The early church read it as a vibrant, interconnected mystery. Seeing how the ancients found Christ on every page of the Old Testament will completely revitalize your personal Bible study, turning it from a daily chore into a spiritual treasure hunt.

Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture

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9. John Dickson, Bullies and Saints

I mentioned this book earlier, but it deserves more. I recommend this to anyone interested in the history of the church.

Why you should read it: Dickson’s central goal isn’t to catalog the entire history of the church. Rather, he seeks to determine whether the world is better off because of Christianity. This book emerged from a documentary he produced on the same topic, and it’s also well worth your time.

Bullies and Saints: An Honest Look at the Good and Evil of Christian History

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Important biographies

One of the best ways to narrow down who you want to read is to peruse their biographical entries. There is a lot to choose from. This was actually a practice in the ancient world, starting at least with Jerome’s Lives of Illustrious Men. But modern examples abound, such as A Concise History of Christian Thought, The History of Christian Thought, Dictionary of Christian Biography, and A Dictionary of Early Christian Biography. These works provide helpful context to understand who the author was and what motivated their work.

On Illustrious Men

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A Concise History of Christian Thought: Completely Revised and Expanded Edition

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The History of Christian Thought

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The following two are particularly influential biographies in the history of the church.

10. Athanasius of Alexandria, The Life of Antony

Written in the fourth century, this is the premier “hagiography” (sacred biography) of the ancient world. It details the life of Antony, a desert monk who gave up immense wealth to live in obscurity and battle demonic forces.

Why you should read it: The early church didn’t write biographies just to record facts. They wrote them to provide models of sacrificial discipleship. Reading The Life of Antony will radically challenge your comfort and consumerism. It is a clarion call to holy living, self-denial, and the daily, victorious struggle against spiritual darkness.

Athanasius: The Life of Antony and the Letter to Marcellinus

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11. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo: A Biography

Brown’s biography of Augustine is widely considered one of the greatest historical biographies ever written, detailing the tortuous path to faith of the Western church’s most influential theologian.

Why you should read it: It is incredibly easy to put the Church Fathers on an untouchable pedestal. Brown brings Augustine down to earth. As you read about Augustine’s crippling psychological struggles, his battles with lust, and his intellectual doubts, you will see unexpected parallels to the twenty-first century. It will remind you that God builds his church using broken, desperate sinners who rely entirely on his grace.

Novelty histories

These are quirky, niche, or historiographically unconventional histories that take up specific or unusual aspects of the Christian past, offering unexpected and profound lessons for today.

12. Susan Ashbrook Harvey, Scenting Salvation: Ancient Christianity and the Olfactory Imagination

Most histories of the early church focus on what Christians wrote or what they built. Harvey focuses on what they smelled. This fascinating book explores how ancient Christians understood the scent of incense, the stench of disease and sin, and the legendary “odor of sanctity” as vital components of their faith.

Why you should read it: Modern Christianity—especially in the West—tends to live entirely from the neck up. We read our Bibles, we listen to sermons, but we often forget that God created us as physical beings. Reading this book will radically awaken your senses. It will remind you that worship is not just an intellectual exercise, but a fully embodied experience. When you understand how the ancients quite literally smelled the “fragrance of Christ’s sacrifice and the beauty of salvation,” it will completely re-enchant the way you experience the physical world as a theater of God’s glory.

13. Caroline Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women

This book delves into the seemingly bizarre world of medieval female mystics and their intense, sometimes extreme, relationships with food, fasting, and the Eucharist. Bynum explores how, in a world controlled by men, women used the control of their own diets and the miraculous reception of the communion host to experience profound union with the suffering of Jesus.

Why you should read it: To modern eyes, the extreme fasting of medieval saints can look like a clinical eating disorder. But Bynum challenges us to look deeper. Devotionally, this book will completely upend your comfortable, twenty-first-century relationship with food and our casual consumerism. It confronts us with believers who were so desperately hungry for God that they literally sustained themselves on the bread of Christ alone. It is a haunting but beautiful call to recognize that our physical appetites are meant to point us toward a much deeper spiritual starvation that only Jesus can satisfy.

14. Leah Payne, God Gave Rock and Roll to You: A History of Contemporary Christian Music

Payne traces the multi-billion-dollar contemporary Christian music (CCM) industry from its roots in early twentieth-century Southern revivalist tent meetings all the way to the massive stadium worship tours of the modern era. She reveals how CCM became a “sonic shorthand for white evangelical orthodoxy,”¹²⁶ meticulously shaped by record executives, youth pastors, and the immense buying power of suburban mothers shopping in Christian bookstores. Through stars like Amy Grant, Petra, DC Talk, and Chris Tomlin, Payne shows how the industry packaged and sold a specific brand of faith deeply intertwined with patriotism, purity culture, and conservative politics.

Why you should read it: It is incredibly easy to plug in your headphones, sing along to K-LOVE, or stand in a megachurch worship service and absorb Christian music without ever considering how the marketplace shapes the message. Payne’s history forces you to confront the uncomfortable reality that much of modern Christian culture was built on consumerism. Are your spiritual reflexes, your political assumptions, and your views on morality being formed by the timeless truths of the cross, or by the marketing strategies of a highly profitable music industry? Reading this book is a profound exercise in spiritual discernment. It will strip away the commercial gloss and nostalgic sentimentality of your favorite youth group anthems, challenging you to reclaim a pure, undivided, and unmarketed heart of praise before God.

Conclusion

Augustine recounts his conversion in his famous Confessions. In it, he tells us that he heard a voice saying, Tolle lege! (“Take up, and read!”) He picked up a Bible, turned to Romans, and changed history. In AD 430, he joined the great cloud of witnesses, watching us now and cheering us on as we run our race.

If we could hear their voices, they would likely echo the words that led to Augustine’s conversion. Let’s listen to them by taking up their works and reading them and about them. Tolle lege!

Share your thoughts

What are your favorite church history books? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

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• Being a Christian in a Non-Christian World: 7 Tips from Church History
• 20 Christian Women Who Shaped Church History
• Everyone Can Study Church History: Here’s How
• Beyond Shame & Showmanship: Why You Should Read Christian Books

There’s a lot of change taking place in higher education, and Christian higher ed is no exception. Some seminaries are experiencing tremendous growth while others have declined. Some have even closed.

The latest data from the Association of Theological Schools (ATS) showed several schools, including four Southern Baptist schools (Midwestern, Gateway, Southeastern, and New Orleans) and the Talbot School of Theology, all showing very strong gains in headcount growth from the 2024 to 2025 school years.

But the contrast between the schools that experienced the largest growth and those with the most attrition was enormous.

Some schools are surging. Others are stalled or shrinking. The question is, what separates the two? Why are some schools growing amidst this disruptive moment in academia, while others are not?

After years in higher education, as a founding dean of what evolved into the Litfin School of Divinity at Wheaton, and now as the dean of Talbot School of Theology, I’ve observed several characteristics shared by growing schools. Importantly, correlation does not equal causation. So while not a prescription that guarantees growth, it’s nonetheless worth identifying those traits that may be contributing to it.

Table of contents

1. Clarity around theological convictions
2. Deep partnerships with churches
3. Flexible & mission-oriented training
What about mainline seminaries?
The bottom line

1. Clarity around theological convictions

First, as I mentioned in my last article, growing seminaries tend to have a clear theological identity, combined with a commitment to historic Christian orthodoxy.

In the social media comments from my last article, some complained about the theological views of some of these larger, growing schools. But regardless of what you make of their theology, you can’t deny that these schools state clearly who they are, where they stand, and what churches they serve. This clarity may take different forms. We see conservative, multidenominational schools like Talbot growing, as well as Reformed, Baptist, Wesleyan, Pentecostal, and charismatic ones. Whatever the case, growing seminaries tend to communicate their theological commitments without ambiguity.

In our confused world, such clarity is kindness. It also seems to prove increasingly effective for them as institutions. This kind of clarity builds trust with pastors, denominations, and donors. Pastors will be more likely to recommend a seminary to prospective students when the seminary has made known what it stands for. Denominations will be more willing to send students to a school that aligns with their distinctives (or at least that honors those distinctives). Donors with clear convictions will be more inclined to invest in a school that shares their convictions.

By contrast, institutions that lack a coherent and clearly articulated theological identity can struggle to develop clear constituencies. Convictional ambiguity often combines with ambiguity around vision and mission, making it difficult for churches to know why they should partner with that specific school.

Join Ed Stetzer for an upcoming series presented by Logos on trends in theological education. Get access to exclusive interviews with institutional leaders to learn how to “future-proof” Christian higher ed.

2. Deep partnerships with churches

Second, growing schools have deep connections to the church.

It’s not an accident that many Baptist seminaries continue to grow, as they are connected to the largest constituency of churches in the United States. Southern Baptist seminaries serve and are funded by Southern Baptist churches. Liberty and Kairos also identify as Baptist.

But all large and growing schools will have a specific constituency. Dallas leads among the Bible churches. Asbury has deep ties with the Wesleyan and Arminian traditions, and now especially the Global Methodists. Talbot is the official seminary partner of several denominations, networks, and ministries.

Multidenominational seminaries have both a challenge and an opportunity here. We can bridge a variety of denominational traditions, offering unique educational opportunities. But that also means we don’t have a natural pool of students to draw from, so we must be especially intentional in pursuing local church relationships.

For years, many seminaries have operated independently from congregational life. But theological education hived off from the church misses the goal of theological education itself.¹²⁷ The local church and the academy need deep partnerships where each benefits from the other.

Relationships with churches, denominations, and networks shape the educational experience itself. Formation ought not to be limited to the classroom. Students are not simply studying theology: They are preparing to lead ministries, serve congregations, and apply that rich theological knowledge within a local church. So many programs now include mentoring, contextual ministry training, and practical leadership development. At Talbot, we’ve launched Talbot Embedded to offer the best of residential education through regional learning cohorts facilitated by local church partners.

Seminaries that intentionally collaborate with churches often see stronger enrollment and greater long-term impact. The church is God’s vehicle of mission for the world, the center of his heart and purposes. So he seems to be honoring schools that are forming strong relationships with local churches.

3. Flexible & mission-oriented training

I will explore this theme more deeply in a future article in this series. But for now, suffice to say that growing seminaries combine flexible delivery methods with a missional approach to theological education.

The way seminaries deliver education has changed dramatically over the past decade. Many students today are already involved in ministry, often serving in churches or nonprofit organizations while pursuing their theological education.

As a result, growing seminaries frequently offer options for education in a variety of modalities and for a variety of purposes, depending on students’ needs. The most well-known (and perhaps most disruptive to traditional educational forms) is online education, but there are other creative and faithful approaches worth considering (again, see models like Talbot Embedded).

What about mainline seminaries?

The conversation about seminary growth tends to focus on evangelical institutions—and for good statistical reason. Evangelical schools represent a significant number of ATS member institutions. The ten largest seminaries in America are all evangelical. That’s a remarkable concentration.

But it would be a mistake to ignore what’s happening among some mainline seminaries, because the story there is more nuanced than simple decline as many assume.

Yale Divinity School, for instance, received a record number of applications for its class of 2025: an 18 percent increase over the prior year.¹²⁸ Students at Yale now come from thirty-four different faith traditions.¹²⁹ Duke Divinity School remains the only mainline seminary in the top twenty-five by enrollment, anchored by the resources of Duke University and the Duke Endowment. Candler School of Theology at Emory continues as a strong United Methodist seminary with an FTE of 412.

What’s driving interest in these schools? Several factors.

1. The mainline schools often have significant endowments and can therefore offer robust financial aid, making seminary financially accessible in ways that many smaller schools cannot.
2. Many of these schools are also connected to major research universities, which appeals to students interested in academic theology, ethics, public policy, and interdisciplinary work.
3. Finally, some mainline seminaries have leaned into formation-heavy curricula—preaching, pastoral care, spiritual direction—that attract students across the theological spectrum.

Mainline seminaries make up roughly a third of ATS-accredited schools but enroll less than a fifth of its total students. The denominational decline of mainline Protestantism has inevitably affected their seminary pipelines. The schools that are bucking that trend tend to be the ones with a clear identity, strong endowments, and a willingness to serve students beyond their own denominational boundaries. These are not unlike the patterns we see among growing evangelical schools.

The bottom line

The data from ATS shows that some seminaries are experiencing encouraging growth. Such growth rarely happens by accident. Yes, God is sovereign. But God also calls leaders who can lead the way toward theological clarity, church partnerships, and creative models of education. In this way, seminaries can find themselves well-positioned to serve the church in a changing world.

And that is the ultimate goal, not just to grant degrees but to equip leaders for the work of the gospel.

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Resources for further reflection

Ed Stetzer Study Bundle

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Shaping a Christian Worldview: The Foundations of Christian Higher Education

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Exploring the History and Philosophy of Christian Education: Principles for the 21st Century

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Mobile Ed: ED161 Christian Education: Foundations and Technology (11 hour course)

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• Who Enrolls the Most Students? The Top 5 Christian Universities
• Equipped for the Future: How to Find the Seminary for You

At one level, Anglicanism is simply the church of the “Angles,” the people of England. However, the English eventually exerted control over the entire island of Britain and Ireland before creating an empire that stretched across the whole world. Wherever the English empire went, the Anglican Church went with it. Anglicanism is now found worldwide, even in nations the English never colonized.

Today, with approximately 85 million adherents worldwide, the majority of whom are located in Africa and Asia, the Anglican tradition is one of the most globalized versions of Christianity, more so in places where English is a spoken language.

To be Anglican is to be part of the Church of England, or to belong to an Anglican province that is in communion with the Archbishop of Canterbury. (Although as we will soon see, that latter historical definition of Anglicanism has become somewhat complicated, and is encountering some pushback in Anglican provinces, especially those in the Global South.)

In the following article, we will discuss the history, theology, and key practices of Anglican churches.

The foundations of Anglicanism

Anglicanism roots itself in the history of Christianity in England going back to Anselm of Canterbury and proudly recognizes its heritage in the Latin theological tradition of Western Europe. Anglicanism emerged through the English Reformation as it evolved over the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, combining theological reform with institutional continuity. This historical development produced a settlement that values Scripture and tradition, Reformed doctrine and Catholic consensus, preaching and liturgical worship, episcopal governance and congregational participation.

However, Anglicanism is not a via media (“a middle way”) between Protestantism and Catholicism, as if it were simply trying to split the difference and attain a hasty compromise or form a hybrid church located somewhere between the two. Rather, the English Reformation was a thoroughly chastening experience for English Christians, so that the Church of England became fully Protestant both in its doctrine (seen in the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion) and in its worship (seen in the Book of Common Prayer). Anglicanism was an attempt to respect its Catholic heritage and spurn radical visions of Protestantism while threading the needle between Calvinistic and Lutheran varieties of Protestantism.

In regards to doctrine, worship, ethics, and ministry, Anglicans consider Scripture to be paramount. This is because Scripture is the ultimate norm of the faith:

Holy Scripture containeth all things necessary to salvation: so that whatsoever is not read therein, nor may be proved thereby, is not to be required of any man, that it should be believed as an article of the Faith, or be thought requisite or necessary to salvation. (Articles of Religion VI)

Regarding practice, Anglicans are called to “hear, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest” all of Scripture, as it says in the Book of Common Prayer.

A brief history of Anglicanism

Anglicanism’s origins lie in the sixteenth-century English Reformation. The formation of the Church of England proved to be a complicated process.

King Henry VIII

Whereas King Henry VIII received the title Fidei Defensor (“Defender of the Faith”) from Pope Leo X in 1521 for his treatise critiquing the writings of the German Reformer, Martin Luther, later King Henry would break with the Church of Rome in 1534 when the Pope failed to grant his divorce to Catherine of Aragon. This break resulted in a formal, institutional separation, while genuine theological reformation only transpired gradually through subsequent reigns.

Henry’s Act of Supremacy (1534) declared the English monarch the “Supreme Head of the Church of England” and led to Henry confiscating monasteries and other Roman Catholic properties. Yet Henry remained doctrinally conservative, maintaining traditional Catholic theology while asserting royal rather than papal authority over church affairs. By Henry’s death in 1547, the Church of England resembled pre-Reformation Catholicism in most of its theological tenets.

Thomas Cranmer

Substantial Protestant reform occurred later under Henry’s son, Edward VI (r. 1547–1553).

The key protagonist for introducing Protestant ideas during this period was the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer. He composed the Book of Common Prayer (1549; revised in 1552), which incorporated Protestant theological principles and was published in English, not Latin. These changes reflected influence from continental Reformers, particularly Martin Bucer and Peter Martyr Vermigli, who had shaped the burgeoning English Reformation.

Mary I

After Edward VI’s death, Henry’s daughter, Mary I, came to power (r. 1553–1558). She reversed Cranmer’s religious reforms and restored Roman Catholicism throughout England, along with formal relations with the pope. Mary also executed approximately 280 Protestant leaders, including Thomas Cranmer, Nicholas Ridley, and Hugh Latimer.

At this point, the English Reformation had only made marginal inroads into popular Christianity in England, and the resurgence of Catholicism met with a mixed reception.

Elizabeth I

However, Mary I soon died, leaving her sister Elizabeth to reign after her. Mary’s mother was Catherine of Aragon, Henry’s first wife, and a devout Catholic. In contrast, Elizabeth’s mother was Anne Boleyn, Henry’s mistress and then queen after he divorced Catherine. Anne was by necessity and inclination a Protestant (only Protestants recognized Henry’s marriage to Anne as lawful).

Elizabeth I’s long reign (r. 1558–1603) meant that her religious reforms lasted and outlasted her and defined the enduring shape of Anglicanism as a Protestant church. Elizabeth quickly set out to resolve religious disputes through a series of laws known to historians as the Elizabethan Settlement (1559–1563). Elizabeth sought to retain episcopal governance and liturgical traditions while affirming Protestant doctrine and permitting some flexibility on interpretations of the Lord’s Supper. The Book of Common Prayer (1559) and the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion (1563) became the definitive Anglican formularies, balancing Catholic heritage and Reformed convictions. Elizabeth also accepted the lesser title of “supreme governor” of the church rather than “supreme head” of the church, which belonged uniquely to the Lord Jesus.

Richard Hooker

Anglicanism continued to develop, having to maintain its resistance to both the Catholicism of European powers (France and Spain) as well as fighting rear-guard actions against Puritans who wanted a more rigorous mode of religious life in the British Isles (Presbyterians, Congregationalists, and Baptists).

In this context, Richard Hooker’s Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity (1594–1597) provided theological articulation for Anglicanism’s distinctive approach. Against Puritan agitators who demanded a thorough cleansing of the church of any residual Catholicism, Hooker argued that Scripture contains doctrine necessary for salvation but permits various ecclesiastical arrangements. Anglicanism only prohibits what is contrary to Scripture. It was permissible then to retain traditions or habits that are absent from Scripture, so long as they are not inconsistent with Scripture (Articles of Religion XX). Accordingly, the wearing of vestments, the lighting of candles, the singing of hymns, the celebration of church seasons like Lent and Advent, were not prohibited. Anglicanism thus became a church that could accommodate Protestants of many persuasions as well as those who still retained Catholic sensitivities.

The Oxford movement

Some controversial innovation emerged with the rise of the Oxford movement in the nineteenth‑century. This was led by a group of clergy who wanted to reassert Anglican’s Catholic heritage by stressing the centrality of the Eucharist, apostolic succession, Latin spirituality, and connections to the medieval church, combined with a concern for the poor living in English slums. Eventually this Anglo-Catholic party began to adopt a more liberal view of Christian doctrine and ethics, joining high-church ecclesiology with an openness to biblical criticism, doctrinal development, and modern thought on issues like evolution.

Soon it dominated the English Church over and against an “evangelical” minority. It was this species of Anglo‑Catholicism with its spirituality, liturgy, social concern, and liberal theology that took hold of much of Anglicanism in provinces not shaped by missionary expansion.

British colonialism

British colonialism spread Anglicanism globally from the seventeenth century onward. The first Anglican diocese outside Britain was established in 1787 in Nova Scotia, Canada. By the nineteenth century, Anglican churches existed throughout the British Empire, including in many parts of Africa, India, Southeast Asia, Oceania, Australia, New Zealand, and North America.

Many regions were placed under the aegis of newly appointed Anglican jurisdictions in places like Canada and India. Eventually, English bishops were sent to provide episcopal oversight to these colonies, but by the twentieth century, often coterminous with decolonization, local Anglican clergy soon became the episcopal leaders of these burgeoning Anglican churches.

A worldwide Anglican Communion

As with any global Christian denomination, ruptures and fault lines began to emerge in worldwide Anglicanism. The first meeting of global Anglican bishops took place in 1867 at Lambeth, the residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury. This meeting was called to address disputes in South Africa related to the deposition of the controversial Bishop John Colenso and to consider mechanisms for inter‑Anglican relations between the various provinces.

This meeting agreed on the need for regular episcopal consultation, determining that the bishops of the Anglican provinces would gather every ten years for a meeting chaired by the Archbishop of Canterbury. This Lambeth Conference was neither a college nor a synod, but a forum for discussion—a bellwether for the mind of the Anglican Communion.

Today, the Anglican Communion comprises forty-two autonomous provinces, with large memberships in Nigeria, Uganda, Kenya, and other nations in the Global South. This geographic shift has introduced theological tensions, particularly regarding biblical interpretation and ethics, as well as mechanisms for dealing with disputes between provinces.

Interested in more on Christian traditions? See our full series on denominations.

Leading Anglican figures

From the turmoil of the English Reformation to its modern global expansion movement, the Anglican way was paved by a diverse lineage of thinkers across five centuries. Among notable Anglican leaders and theologians are:

• Thomas Cranmer
• Richard Hooker
• Hugh Latimer
• J. C. Ryle
• William Temple
• C. S. Lewis
• John Mbiti
• Leon Morris
• John Stott
• J. I. Packer
• Alister McGrath
• Desmond Tutu
• N. T. Wright
• Emily Onyango
• Elizabeth Tish Warren
• Titus Chung
• Rowan Williams
• Kathryn Tanner
• Katherine Sonderegger

Anglican theology and practice

Global Anglicanism represents a constellation of churches born from Latin Christianity, shaped by the English Reformation, connected to British colonialism, indebted to the labors of Protestant missionaries, marked by Anglo-Catholic proclivities in some quarters, and often informed by local currents. Anglicans are committed to the authority of Scripture, justification by faith, the ministry of Word and sacrament, freedom of conscience in secondary matters, and the promotion of the gospel.

While Anglicanism is diverse, the shared and enduring features of Anglican theology and practice can be found in the Thirty-Nine Articles and the Book of Common Prayer.

Creeds and the Thirty-Nine Articles

According to the Thirty-Nine Articles, Anglicans affirm:

• the Trinity,
• Jesus’s full divinity and humanity,
• Scripture’s sufficiency,
• election by grace,
• justification by faith alone, and
• only two sacraments—Baptism and the Eucharist.

They also affirm the Apostles’ Creed, the Nicene Creed, and the Athanasian Creed.

Anglicans reject the notion of purgatory, the necessity of priestly celibacy, and the authority of the pope in the English churches. Rejected too is the Catholic view of the transubstantiation of the elements of bread and wine during the Lord’s Supper; instead, it is asserted that “The Body of Christ is given, taken, and eaten … only after an heavenly and spiritual manner” (Articles of Religion XXVIII). Yet Anglicans affirm Jesus’s real presence, received spiritually by faith. As such, the 1662 Prayer Book asserts that communicants of the supper “spiritually eat the flesh of Christ, and drink his blood.”

The Book of Common Prayer

No document has shaped Anglican identity more than the Book of Common Prayer. Thomas Cranmer’s liturgical masterpiece established English as the language of worship and created a common liturgical framework uniting Anglicans across the ages. The 1662 edition was a slightly revised version of the Prayer Book that attempted to encourage liturgical unity in the aftermath of Oliver Cromwell’s protectorate and the restoration of the English monarchy.

The Prayer Book’s contents extend beyond public worship. It contains various prayers, readings, and scriptural selections which have formed Anglican spirituality for centuries. Its catechism teaches doctrine; its Ordinal defines the nature of various ministries; its baptism, marriage, and burial services mark life’s key passages.

While most Anglican provinces have developed their own native liturgies, the Book of Common Prayer remains normative for Anglican faith and practice. It has provided the substructure and culture for the continuing expressions of Anglican worship.

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Government and organization

In terms of church governance, Anglicanism retains the threefold episcopal order of bishops, priests, and deacons, which is regarded as orders of ministries established by the apostles. The Church of England’s General Synod comprises three houses: bishops, clergy, and laity. Major decisions require approval from all three houses in order to pass. Most Anglican provinces employ synodical structures where laity, clergy, and bishops jointly make decisions.

An Anglican parish is typically led by a vicar who leads in collaboration with a vestry of lay persons called wardens. Anglican churches are usually part of a local network of churches called a deanery and led by a dean. A number of deaneries make up a diocese led by a bishop. Larger Anglican dioceses are led by an archbishop, often with assistant bishops called suffragan bishops.

Today the instruments of global Anglican unity are:

1. The Archbishop of Canterbury as primus inter pares (first among equals) among bishops in the Anglican Communion;
2. the Lambeth Conference, with its ten yearly meeting of the Anglican Communion’s bishops;
3. the Primates Meeting, where the head of each Anglican province gather together annually; and
4. the Anglican Consultative Council, which is a meeting of Anglican clergy and laity to work on cooperative ventures together.

Importantly, there is no Anglican pope and no global synod to legislate doctrine or to enforce discipline. This arrangement reflects Anglicanism’s emphasis on unity without uniformity. Provinces maintain independence while recognizing their historic bonds of affection and shared tradition centered on the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The state of the global Anglican Communion today

The Anglican Communion faces significant and grievous theological divisions, particularly regarding biblical authority and sexual ethics. Many Global South provinces maintain traditional teachings on marriage and sexuality, while some Western provinces have ordained partnered-LGBTQ+ clergy and blessed same-sex unions.

These disputes have begun tearing the fabric of the Anglican Communion apart. GAFCON (Global Anglican Future Conference) is a network of provinces which emerged in 2008 due to concern with the theological drift of their largely Western counterparts and the inability of the Anglican Communion to exercise discipline over them. Since 2008, theological divisions have only hardened and little has succeeded in healing the divisions.

Then, as of October 2025, GAFCON declared that it and it alone is the authentic Anglican Church and communion with Canterbury is now a disqualifying mark rather than a qualifying mark of Anglican identity.

Conclusion

Anglicanism at its best is what the Roman Catholic Church would have looked like if it embraced the Protestant Reformation. Contrary to popular criticism, Anglicanism is not “Catholicism-lite” or “Temu-Catholicism.” It is a Protestant tradition that has appreciated its Catholic heritage, has committed itself to missionary endeavors, and has remained at the forefront of many social justice concerns—from ending the slave trade to protecting ecological sustainability.

Anglicanism represents a distinctive Christian tradition valuing Reformed theology, Catholic traditions, episcopal governance, and liturgical worship. Emerging from the English Reformation and the British Empire, Anglicanism has become a vehicle for both the promotion of the gospel and the uniting together of men and women of Christian faith from every part of the globe. As Article XIX states, the visible church comprises of “a congregation of faithful men [and women], in which the pure Word of God is preached, and the Sacraments be duly ministered.” By these marks, Anglicanism continues to proclaim the Lord Jesus across five centuries and six continents, maintaining an ancient faith, embodying a missional spirit, and engaging contemporary contexts.

Share your thoughts

What is Anglicanism? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Mike Bird’s recommended resources on Anglicanism

• Bevins, Winfield. Simply Anglican: An Ancient Faith for Today’s World. Anglican Compass, 2020.
• Chapman, Mark. Anglicanism: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press, 2006.
• Hunter, Todd D. The Accidental Anglican: The Surprising Appeal of the Liturgical Church. InterVarsity Press, 2010.

Anglicanism: A Reformed Catholic Tradition

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The Faith We Confess: An Exposition of the 39 Articles

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Reformation Anglican Worship: Experiencing Grace, Expressing Gratitude (The Reformation Anglicanism Essential Library, vol. 4)

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It’s 63 BC. You are a Roman citizen named Rabirius, and you’re on trial. Caesar himself has accused you of murdering a tribune of the people. Crucifixion was eventually ruled out during the trial, but for your lawyer, Cicero, the very idea of it being considered for a Roman citizen is unthinkable and, frankly, punishment enough. In his brilliant closing remarks, he says,

How grievous a thing it is to be disgraced by a public court; how grievous to suffer a fine, how grievous to suffer banishment; and yet in the midst of any such disaster we retain some degree of liberty. Even if we are threatened with death, we may die free men. But the executioner, the veiling of the head and the very word “cross” should be far removed not only from the person of a Roman citizen but from his thoughts, his eyes and his ears. For it is not only the actual occurrence of these things or the endurance of them, but liability to them, the expectation, indeed the very mention of them, that is unworthy of a Roman citizen and a free man.¹³⁰

Crucifixion is at the center of Christianity, but in light of Cicero’s words, it should not surprise us that Paul calls the cross of Jesus “a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to the Greeks” (1 Cor 1:23; see also 1 Cor 2:2; Gal 5:11).

The heart of the Christian message, which Paul described as the “word of the cross” … ran counter not only to Roman political thinking, but to the whole ethos of religion in ancient times and in particular to the ideas of God held by educated people.¹³¹

Yet the language of the cross is ubiquitous in Christianity, whether in the New Testament or the writings of the early church. The cross is central even though “Jesus’ cross was a sign of extreme ‘shame’ (Heb 12:2).”¹³²

Removed as we are from that culture, we often miss just how shocking crucifixion was. We wear gold crosses as jewelry. We display beautiful, polished crucifixes in our sanctuaries. However, the reality of this Roman execution was unimaginably horrifying and shameful.

The horror of crucifixion

The Romans did not invent crucifixion, and evidence of its use is found in various other ancient cultures.¹³³ But the Romans perfected it as a tool of terror. They used it primarily to punish slaves, pirates, and political rebels. Roman writers called it the summum supplicium, “the supreme penalty.”¹³⁴

Quite a bit of popular (and even some scholarly) work focuses on the crucifixion of Jesus as an accurate description of the practice as a whole.¹³⁵ This is at least partly because the Gospels provide the longest and most detailed account of a crucifixion in the whole of ancient literature. But given the brutality and indignity of the practice, this is no surprise, as “no ancient writer wanted to dwell too long on this cruel procedure.”¹³⁶

It is important to note, however, that there was no standard practice for crucifixion.¹³⁷ But one common thread was that the aim of crucifixion was “subjecting the victim to the utmost indignity.”¹³⁸ Additionally, the physical ordeal began long before the actual cross. Put simply, crucifixion, including any preliminary abuse, gave “the caprice and sadism of the executioners … full rein.”¹³⁹ While the process of crucifixion varied widely, there were some elements in Roman crucifixion that were common enough to establish a broad, four-part outline.

1. Scourging the victim

Prior to the act itself, victims were ruthlessly flogged and beaten (see Matt 27:26; Mark 15:15; John 19:1). This was usually done with a flagrum, a short Roman whip interlaced with heavy iron weights and sharp pieces of sheep bone. Some victims were also disfigured in various ways, like having their tongues ripped out or their eyes burnt out. In some cases, victims died from the scourging before ever reaching the cross.

2. Carrying the cross

After such a beating, the victim was expected to carry the crossbeam, known as the patibulum, to the execution site.¹⁴⁰ This heavy wooden beam could weigh up to a hundred pounds, physically exhausting the already weakened victim.¹⁴¹ The heavy vertical pole was typically kept stationary in the ground at the execution site and reused for multiple executions.

3. Hanging on the cross

The form of the cross itself varied. It could be a vertical stake with no crossbeam, a vertical stake with a crossbeam, shaped like a capital T, or a vertical stake with an intersecting beam—the shape traditionally represented in Christian iconography.¹⁴²

Positioning on the cross also varied, including hanging the victim upside down, having stakes driven through genitals, or outstretching the arms.¹⁴³

Victims were affixed to the cross using ropes, heavy iron nails, or a combination of both. Nails measuring four to seven inches in length were commonly driven through the victim’s wrists (as the palms could not support the body’s weight) and through their heel bones.¹⁴⁴

Rare archaeological evidence from a crucified man in Jerusalem is an iron nail hammered laterally through the heel bone, secured with an olive-wood plaque just under the nail head to prevent the victim from pulling the foot free.¹⁴⁵

Crucifixion was designed to be as slow and agonizing as possible, with the victim dying “limb by limb.”¹⁴⁶ Depending on the specific methods used, a victim could hang in agony for several days before finally expiring.

4. Dying on the cross

The final cause of death by asphyxiation has been assumed since Dr. Pierre Barbet put the theory forward in A Doctor at Calvary in 1950. The hanging position severely restricted the chest muscles and diaphragm. To exhale, the victim was forced to painfully push up on their nailed feet. Eventually, muscle fatigue and exhaustion would set in, leading to suffocation.¹⁴⁷

However, a recent examination by a forensic pathologist has challenged these perspectives.¹⁴⁸ Patrick Hansma strongly argues against the widely held theory that crucifixion victims died from asphyxiation. He explains that the asphyxiation hypothesis has zero scientific or historical evidence to support it. Furthermore, observations of modern, voluntary crucifixions in places like the Philippines show no signs of this rhythmic breathing struggle.

Instead, Hansma proposes several physiological mechanisms that are far more likely to have caused death during crucifixion.

• Heart failure: The extreme trauma could induce fatal strain on the heart. Right heart failure could result from pulmonary congestion, fluid buildup (edema), and acute pulmonary hypertension as the body tries to shunt blood in a low-oxygen state. Left heart failure could occur as the body loses fluid volume; blood vessels constrict to maintain blood pressure, drastically increasing the resistance (afterload) the heart must pump against until it fails.
• Embolic events (clots): Blunt force trauma from pre-crucifixion beatings or the Roman practice of breaking the victim’s legs could liquefy fat under the skin or release bone marrow. This can cause fatal fat and marrow embolisms that travel to the lungs or brain. Additionally, hanging completely static on the cross promotes deep vein thrombosis (blood clots), which could also travel to the lungs.
• Dehydration: Victims were exposed to the hot sun after extreme physical exertion and trauma. They lost massive amounts of fluid through bleeding and “third spacing” (fluid leaking out of blood vessels into surrounding tissues as edema), which thickened the blood and could lead to lethal dehydration.
• Exsanguination (bleeding to death): While the nail wounds alone might not cause a victim to bleed to death (unless major arteries in the palms were hit), the severe trauma, flogging, and blunt force injuries that routinely preceded crucifixion could cause massive, fatal blood loss.¹⁴⁹
  Rhabdomyolysis: If the victim was affixed to the cross in a way that severely hyperextended their arms backward (similar to a torture technique called strappado or reverse hanging), it could cause rapid, fatal muscle tissue breakdown.

Ultimately, Hansma concludes that instead of suffocation, a crucifixion victim likely succumbed to a combination of these cardiovascular and systemic failures brought on by severe dehydration, heart failure, embolic events, and the immense blunt and sharp force trauma they sustained.

If the Romans wanted to speed up the execution, they would shatter the victim’s lower legs with a heavy iron mallet.¹⁵⁰ This violent practice further limited the movement of the victim, and thereby sped up their demise.

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The shame of crucifixion

While all of this is obviously horrific, crucifixion did more than just kill you. “In crucifixion, everything was done to humiliate and dishonor the victim in addition to torturing him or her to death.”¹⁵¹ For instance, victims were almost always executed without clothing, both to make them more susceptible to blows and to increase their shame. Crucified bodies were also regularly left up and denied burial.¹⁵² In fact, in some cases, even though execution had taken place by other means, a dead body was later crucified.¹⁵³ Thus, Horace refers to people on the cross as food for crows.¹⁵⁴

Shame in Greco-Roman society

This public degradation was part of the horror of crucifixion, and it is one that is easily missed in settings that aren’t steeped in the concepts of honor and shame. Social scientific scholars such as Richard Rohrbaugh call honor and shame “core values of the biblical world.”¹⁵⁵

Honor is not simply self-esteem. Rather, it’s more like publicly acknowledged self-esteem.¹⁵⁶ Conversely, shame is recognizing when your self-esteem is not acknowledged by the public.¹⁵⁷

If one has a higher opinion of oneself than society does, then an adjustment needs to be made, either by publicly proving one’s worth or by adjusting one’s self-perception. The ability to feel shame is understood as a good thing because it is an individual’s recognition that they have stepped outside the bounds of what their society will allow. They are ashamed, and this motivates them to return to conformity with societal expectations.

A shameless person, however, would disregard public expectations.¹⁵⁸ Put simply, if you break the societal convention, the expectation is that shame will return you to conformity. If it does not, then you are uncivilized, rude, and should be shunned.¹⁵⁹

Further, in a collectivist society, both honor and shame were shared. Neither honor nor shame was individual in nature. Both were applied broadly to families and other social associations. One was connected not only to family but also to any other significant relationships.

These values are deeply embedded in the Greco-Roman world.

• Plutarch says, “For the wise man takes pleasure in what is honourable, but the fool is not vexed by shamefulness.”¹⁶⁰
  Xenophon says that the love of honor is the only thing that separates us from animals.¹⁶¹
• Augustine, speaking of the Romans, says, “Glory was their most ardent love. They lived for honor, and for it they did not hesitate to die. This single measureless ambition crushed their lesser greeds. It was their glory to conquer and control others, and a dishonor for their fatherland not to be free.”¹⁶²

Nothing mattered more to a Roman than honor, collectively acknowledged and understood. And crucifixion ripped that to shreds.

Crucifixion as public shaming

Crucifixion was “an intentionally degrading death, fixing the criminal’s honor at the lowest end of the spectrum and serving as an effective deterrent to the observers, reminding them of the shameful end that awaits those who similarly deviate from the dominant culture’s values and scripts for subordinates.”¹⁶³ The violence and shame of the cross were used by the Romans as a preventative measure.¹⁶⁴ Josephus reports that mass crucifixions were intended to quell Jewish revolts:

The main reason why [Titus] did not forbid [crucifixion] was this, that he hoped the Jews might perhaps yield at that sight, out of fear lest they might themselves afterwards be liable to the same cruel treatment. So the soldiers…nailed those they caught, one after one way, and another after another, to the crosses, by way of jest; when their multitude was so great, that room was wanting for the crosses, and crosses wanting for the bodies.¹⁶⁵

This is also why crucifixion nearly always occurred on popular roads. As Quintilian puts it, “Whenever we crucify the guilty, the most crowded roads are chosen, where the most people can see and be moved by this fear. For penalties relate not so much to retribution as to their exemplary effect.”¹⁶⁶ They were visible reminders of what rebellion earned you. Crucifixion was essentially a terror tactic to keep provinces in order.¹⁶⁷

Crux eventually entered the vocabulary of lower classes as a vulgar taunt.¹⁶⁸ For Cicero, as we’ve seen, it’s an unthinkable punishment:

It is a crime to bind a Roman citizen; to scourge him is a wickedness; to put him to death is almost parricide. What shall I say of crucifying him? So guilty an action cannot by any possibility be adequately expressed by any name bad enough for it.¹⁶⁹

Cicero was not often speechless, but the concept of crucifying a Roman was sufficient to leave him without words. He was not alone. Crucifixion was deplorable on every level. One did not want to see, read, hear, or think about it, or be associated with it or its victims in any way.

The scandal of Christ’s cross

One can imagine then the absolute befuddlement of the Romans as they watched Christianity grow after the crucifixion of Jesus. What absurdity to worship a dead leader, but more than that, a crucified one. This foolishness of the gospel for the Greco-Roman world was the final and strongest attempt of the culture to shame you back into line. Yet not only did Christians lack the good sense to be ashamed of Jesus on the cross (Rom 1:16), they went so far as to celebrate it (1 Cor 1:18; Gal 6:14)! To be Roman is to love honor, but to be a Christian is to love the cross. These values were (and remain) at an impasse.

For a striking example of how a Greco-Roman mind saw crucifixion, one of the first depictions of Christian crucifixion is found in the Alexamenos Graffito.¹⁷⁰ It is a carving on a wall of a man worshipping a crucified donkey. For the average Roman, Christians were shameless. They lacked the ability to recognize their shame or attempt to remedy it.

Just as victims of crucifixion were irretrievably shamed, so are those who continue to willingly be associated with them. Christians were thus culturally equivalent to the lowest of society. This, as we have seen, would go beyond the corrective measures that a society could impose.

• Celsus points this out in the second century when criticizing Christianity, saying that Jesus was “was shamefully bound, and disgracefully punished, and very recently was most [insultingly] treated before the eyes of all men.”¹⁷¹
  Lucian of Samosata joins in, referring to Jesus as “that crucified sophist they worship and according to that one’s laws they live.”¹⁷²
• Jewish views of crucifixion were no better. Anyone who was crucified was cursed by God, based on Deuteronomy 21:23.¹⁷³ Crucifixion was viewed by the Jews as “the most dishonourable form of death penalty, which is specifically imposed for a political crime, treason against the people.”¹⁷⁴

Thus, any convert to Christianity had to reckon with the social fallout of Jesus’s death. Justin Martyr tells us, “For this they accuse us of madness, saying that we attribute to a crucified man a place second to the unchanging and eternal God, the Creator of all things.”¹⁷⁵ Madness: Jesus experienced the pinnacle of shame, but now he is in the position of highest honor.¹⁷⁶

For the outsider, the cross remained the most difficult barrier to conversion. The best way to overcome that barrier was to vindicate Jesus, and there is no better vindication than the resurrection.¹⁷⁷

Conclusion

Let us return to 63 BC and the trial of Rabirius. Now imagine those who acquitted him after Cicero’s speech. Imagine their disgust that a Roman citizen was threatened, even briefly, with something as grotesque as crucifixion.

It’s virtually impossible that any of them would have lived long enough to hear a presentation of the gospel, but for our sake, let’s imagine they did. Imagine that they are told that the one supreme God became man (Phil 2:6–7). Perhaps that would be taken as silliness. God would never deign to become mortal. But that this God who took on mortality proved it by dying (Phil 2:8a)? Now that is absurd. Laughable even. What God can truly die? And we’re to believe this is the greatest of all gods? But wait: His death was death on a cross (Phil 2:8b)?! Lactantius preserves an objection along these lines:

Why, if he was God and wanted to die, was he not at least executed by some other honest form of death? Why particularly by a cross? Why by an infamous form of punishment, which indeed appears unworthy of a free person in spite of the fact that he/she is guilty?¹⁷⁸

Now this is truly insane. This is not worthy of consideration. A good Roman shouldn’t even have to hear such things.

And yet, in less than three hundred years, all Romans would. So many would accept it that Christianity became the official religion of Rome. The empire that saw nothing but disdain, shame, and insanity in the cross eventually embraced that same symbol.

Share your thoughts

How does the nature of crucifixion shape how we read the New Testament’s message of the cross? Join us in Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Ryan Lytton’s suggested resources for studying crucifixion

• Select Works of Cicero (36 vols.) by M. Tullius Cicero
• Cook, John Granger. Crucifixion in the Mediterranean World. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 327. Second edition. Mohr Siebeck, 2019.

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In this episode of What in the Word?, Thomas H. McCall joins Kirk E. Miller to discuss one of the most emotionally arresting lines in the Gospels: Jesus’s cry of dereliction from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matt 27:46; cf. Mark 15:34). These words have raised questions, like: Did the Father actually forsake the Son? Was the Trinity ruptured? And how should this utterance shape our understanding of the atonement, if at all? Tom surveys different historical interpretations on this passage and helps listeners navigate its exegesis and theological implications. He also gives suggestions on how to avoid important pitfalls.

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Episode guest: Thomas H. McCall

Thomas H. McCall is Timothy C. and Julie M. Tennent Professor of Theology at Asbury Theological Seminary. Previously, he pastored churches in Alaska and Michigan and was formerly Professor of Biblical and Systematic Theology at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School and Professorial Fellow in Exegetical and Analytic Theology at the University of St. Andrews. He is the author and co-author of several articles and books in historical theology and systematic theology.

Episode synopsis

The cry in context: regal authority

Tom begins by situating the cry within the respective Gospel narratives.

This line is not a random emotional outburst placed on the periphery of the crucifixion story. In both Matthew and Mark, it’s one of Jesus’s final utterances, intentionally placed near the climax of the passion narrative. Yet, at the same time, the evangelists don’t pause to interpret it. They simply record the cry in transliterated Aramaic, translate it, and leave the statement to confront the reader without explanation. Tom argues that this “non-explained” quality is part of its effect, drawing attention to the intensity of Christ’s suffering.

But Matthew’s Gospel, in particular, adds another layer of tension because of how Matthew has been narratively developing the theme of Jesus’s sovereignty throughout. Tom briefly sketches this theme across Matthew’s Gospel:

• Matthew’s so-called infancy narrative highlights Jesus’s kingship. He opens with a genealogy framed to highlight Jesus’s royal identity, the magi asking for the location of one born “king of the Jews,” and Herod’s violent reaction.
• This theme continues into Jesus’s wilderness temptations, where a central issue is authority: Who rules, who has the right to command, and what kind of kingship will Jesus embody?
• By the time Matthew reaches the crucifixion, the regal theme has become a sharp paradox: Jesus is publicly labeled “king of the Jews,” yet he appears helpless, executed like a criminal under another ruler’s judgment.

Thus, powerful themes collide at this precise moment: the proclaimed kingship of Jesus and his apparent defeat. The cry—“Why have you forsaken me?”—emerges from the center of that collision. As such, in Matthew’s framing, the cry of dereliction does not merely express grief. It injects a seeming plot twist that throws Jesus’s entire identity into question—or at least confronts misconceptions about the nature of his rule.

In his book, Forsaken: The Trinity and the Cross, and Why It Matters, Tom expounds upon the shock value:

Such a question surely comes from someone who has been unfaithful—and who now blames God for their abandonment. … But this question, of course, does not come from someone who has been unfaithful. It does not come from a pious person who simply isn’t theologically astute enough to know better. It comes from the lips of none other than Jesus Christ. It comes from the one who has been utterly faithful. It comes from the one of whom the Father said, “This is my beloved Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased” (Matt. 3:17). It comes from the one who is the eternal Logos (John 1:1), the second person of the Trinity. So these words ring out like a thunderbolt.¹⁵¹

Why this verse is so debated

This verse has become a battleground where rather different theological commitments often surface. In their book, Beholding the Triune God: The Inseparable Work of Father, Son, and Spirit, Matthew Y. Emerson and Brandon D. Smith introduce the issue as follows:

Did the Father turn his face away? Put another way, was there some sort of break or rupture between the persons of the Trinity on that fateful day on Golgotha? [Many see in] the cross … a moment of separation between the Father and the Son. The cry of dereliction … is Jesus’s cry of abandonment, meant to communicate an existential angst, a torment of soul rooted in some kind of spiritual distance between the incarnate Son and his heavenly Father due to the latter’s wrath being poured out. To say it a bit differently, many view the cross as a moment in which the Father pours out his personal wrath on the Son, and this is felt by the Son at a spiritual level and communicated via the cry of dereliction.¹⁶⁴

Interestingly, Tom observes that recent interpretations of this passage (especially in the last century) differ significantly from how earlier theologians (patristic, medieval, and early modern) tended to understand it. This shift itself raises questions: Why the change? What assumptions are driving it?

And a central reason such interpretations matter is the way they impinge upon one’s doctrine of God. According to Tom, certain modern readings arguably undermine core Christian claims about God’s unity, the Trinity, and Christ’s person. In other words, differences over this text involve not merely alternative interpretations of Christ’s cry, but alternative understandings of what can be said of God.

Additionally, many people resonate with this verse because it names a universal human experience: the feeling of abandonment—even abandonment by God. For some, the verse brings comfort: Jesus knows this experience. Yet for others, it’s destabilizing. If even one like Jesus experienced God’s abandonment, what hope is there for the rest of us? In this way, Jesus’s cry often becomes a “mirror text,” reflecting people’s own grief, doubt, trauma, or longing.

3 interpretive approaches

To help us sort through the theological issues, Tom outlines three general approaches to the text, admitting these are rather “broad strokes.”

1. Forsaken to death while maintaining the beatific vision

Tom begins by stating the dominant view among medieval theologians like Peter Lombard and Thomas Aquinas. On this account, the Father “forsakes” the Son in this specific sense: The Father hands the Son over to suffer death at the hands of sinful humans. The forsakenness is real, but it is not a loss of divine love or an internal conflict within God. It is God the Father permitting God the Son to be crucified.

Far from experiencing an interruption in the Father’s pleasure, Aquinas insists that Jesus would have even enjoyed the beatific vision—the uninterrupted communion with God that Christians hope to enjoy in the future—throughout his passion. Thus, this view maintains the reality of Christ’s suffering while also insisting that the Son never ceases to trust the Father, and the Father never ceases to love the Son.

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2. A “God against God” rupturing of the Trinity

A view like Aquinas’s can be sharply contrasted with a modern theologian like Jürgen Moltmann. Moltmann famously read Jesus’s cry as indicative of a kind of internal contradiction within God (“God against God”), a stasis or rupture within God’s own life—even an ontological break in the Trinity.

Tom strongly objects: This view doesn’t merely interpret the verse differently. It implies a fundamentally different doctrine of God. According to Tom, it sits far outside what classical Christian theology would even consider metaphysically possible.

Tom also argues that versions of this “rupture” interpretation can sometimes show up in some popular evangelical presentations, namely, those that describe the Father as disgusted with Jesus and turning away from him in revulsion, implying a divine hatred or intra-trinitarian fracture.

3. An experience of forsakenness apart from divine displeasure

According to a third family of interpretations, often associated with John Calvin and Reformed scholastic trajectories (e.g., Francis Turretin), Jesus genuinely experiences something like forsakenness at the level of human consciousness, an experience tied to his identification with sinners. Yet in these accounts, no actual break in the Trinity—or hostility of the Father toward the Son—occurs.

Kirk mentions Calvin, for instance, who maintains that Christ did indeed feel the weight of divine vengeance, what we might call the horrors of eternal death, and in this sense the abandonment of God.

Nothing had been done if Christ had only endured corporeal death. In order to interpose between us and God’s anger, and satisfy his righteous judgment, it was necessary that he should feel the weight of divine vengeance. Whence also it was necessary that he should engage, as it were, at close quarters with the powers of hell and the horrors of eternal death. … And certainly no abyss can be imagined more dreadful than to feel that you are abandoned and forsaken of God, and not heard when you invoke him, just as if he had conspired your destruction. To such a degree was Christ dejected. … And certainly had not his soul shared in the punishment, he would have been a Redeemer of bodies only.¹⁶⁷

But Calvin is careful to clarify that this in no way implies an ontological rupture in God or something like personal hatred or anger of the Father towards the Son.

We do not, however, insinuate that God was ever hostile to him or angry with him. How could he be angry with the beloved Son, with whom his soul was well pleased? Or how could he have appeased the Father by his intercession for others if He were hostile to himself? But this we say, that he bore the weight of the divine anger, that, smitten and afflicted, he experienced all the signs of an angry and avenging God.¹⁷⁹

An interpretive key: Psalm 22

Jesus’s cry does not consist of words invented on the spot. Rather, he is quoting Psalm 22. According to Tom, this is crucial for how we ought to interpret Jesus’s cry. We are meant to hear in it a reflection of the Psalm.

Observe, for instance, how the passion narratives are saturated with allusions to Psalm 22. As Craig Blomberg notes, Psalm 22

contains an astonishing number of close parallels to the events of Jesus’ crucifixion: a cry of abandonment (22:1–2), despising and mocking (22:6–7), the taunt that the Lord should deliver the one who trusts in him (22:8), a near-death experience described as being poured out like water with all his bones out of joint, his heart melted like wax, and his strength dissipated (22:14–15). Furthermore, he is surrounded by wicked onlookers (22:16a) who pierce his hands and feet (22:16b) and divide his garments by lot (22:18).¹⁸⁰

For the Gospel writers, then, the use of Psalm 22 is not an incidental footnote. It’s the interpretive framework they’re weaving into the story.

The trajectory of Psalm 22 becomes our guide to interpreting Matthew 27:46. Psalm 22 begins with anguish but moves toward vindication and confident trust. In fact, the psalm later affirms that God “did not hide his face” from the afflicted, but listened to his cry for help. That doesn’t erase the lament, but it does reframe it. The cry of forsakenness exists in a larger sequence leading to deliverance.

Use the Important Passages section in Logos’s Guides to locate
key quotations and cross references.

Christ’s solidarity with us

How then should we read the cry of dereliction? Tom offers a theological reading shaped by three lenses:

1. Context. Interpret the cry according to its specific use in Matthew and Mark, and in light of the original phrase in Psalm 22.
2. Canon. Read the cry alongside Jesus’s other passion sayings, such as his expression of trust, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit” (Luke 23:46), and victory: “It is finished” (John 19:30). Such sayings would be difficult to reconcile with an idea of total despair or metaphysical rupture within God.
3. Creed. Interpret it in accord with and within the bounds of creedal trinitarianism and orthodox Christology.

Using these three lenses, Tom concludes that the cry expresses Christ’s solidarity with humanity. Jesus is not forsaken from being the Son. He is forsaken in the sense that he has entered the human condition, and in that moment takes up our cries and prays them as our representative (John of Damascus).

In no way does this involve an ontological separation within God. The Father does not hate the Son. He does not turn his face away. The Trinity is not broken. There is no interruption in the communion of love between Father and Son. The divine relationship is not abandoned.

Atonement without “God against God”

How, if at all, does the cry of dereliction relate to the atonement?

• Tom wants to affirm that Christ’s sufferings accomplish substitutionary atonement, which includes a penal dimension: Believers no longer bear the just penalty for their sins because of Christ.
• He also wants to affirm christus victor themes: Christ triumphs over sin, death, and the devil, bringing believers victory.
• He wants room for moral-exemplar dynamics: Christ’s faithful suffering is meaningful as a pattern for discipleship.

What Tom wants to resist are problematic articulations of atonement that pits the Father against the Son, as though one divine person could act against another. On the contrary, the divine will is unified. Father and Son are not in competition.

Applying carefully, but with hope

Tom counsels preachers and teachers to explain the text in its full narrative and canonical context, without speculative exaggeration. Don’t go beyond what Scripture teaches by claiming God’s inner life is fractured or that the Father is hostile to the Son.

Additionally, faithful believers can feel abandoned. Jesus himself gives voice to that anguish here. But we must remember, Psalm 22 does not end in abandonment, nor do the Gospels end at the cross. Matthew culminates with the risen Christ’s declaration of cosmic authority—“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt 28:18)—which reframes the cross’s apparent defeat as the paradoxical path to victory. Thus, Jesus does not join us to “wallow in our grief.” Rather, he enters our darkness to bring us through it: God-with-us not only in suffering, but into redemption and triumph.

Logos values thoughtful and engaging discussions on important biblical topics. However, the views and interpretations presented in this episode are those of the individuals speaking and do not necessarily reflect the official position of Logos. We recognize that Christians may hold different perspectives on this passage, and we welcome diverse engagement and respectful dialogue.

Let us know what you think

How do you understand Jesus’s cry of dereliction? Join us in the Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Pertinent resources from Thomas H. McCall

• Forsaken: The Trinity and the Cross, and Why It Matters.
• “Christology and the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus” in the forthcoming Cambridge Companion to Christology

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We often excel at understanding and teaching the meaning of Christ’s death—its significance for accomplishing our salvation. Sometimes, we are less adept at grasping the significance of Christ’s resurrection, at least beyond how it signals retrospectively the effectiveness of the cross. We may struggle to explain why Christ’s resurrection itself matters, what the resurrection specifically contributes to our salvation.

To fill that void, this article aims to survey the New Testament’s theology of Christ’s resurrection.

1. Christ’s resurrection demonstrates the remarkable power of God

In Acts 26:6–8, when Paul is on trial for preaching the resurrection, he equates this to being on trial for his hope in “the promise made by God to our fathers.” Paul contends, “For this hope [of resurrection] I am accused by Jews, O king!” He then asks rhetorically, “Why is it thought incredible by any of you that God raises the dead?” The question implies it is not incredible that God would raise the dead. God, of course, is omnipotent, all-powerful, able to do as he pleases: even raising the dead.

Yet let’s not neglect how rather incredible it is to be able to say that it’s not incredible for God to raise the dead! Raising the dead is by every other account impossible. For instance, when God asks Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones, “Can these bones live?” (Ezek 37:3), the expected answer under any normal circumstances would be no. (But Ezekiel wisely punts, “O Lord God, you know,” since he knows ordinarily dead bones don’t live—but he also knows to whom he is speaking!)

God’s raising Jesus from the dead demonstrates his immense power to accomplish what seems impossible (cf. Matt 19:26; Rom 4:19–21). Raising the dead is an incredible thing. But what is even more incredible is that for God, it’s not incredible.

2. Christ’s resurrection serves as decisive proof of his ministry and claims

In Matthew 12:38–40, when the scribes and Pharisees demand a sign, Jesus responds, “No sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah.” Just as Jonah spent three days in the fish’s belly—something of a death for Jonah (see Jonah 2:2–7)—so “will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.” But, of course, three days is a limited amount of time, implying eventual resurrection. The ultimate sign validating Jesus’s ministry, therefore, would be his death followed by resurrection.

Similarly, in John 2:18–22, when asked for a sign of his authority to cleanse the temple, Jesus responds, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” John clarifies that Jesus was speaking of “the temple of his body.”¹⁸¹ When Jesus was raised from the dead, his disciples “believed the Scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken” (John 2:22). The sign that Jesus will give to demonstrate his authority to do things like cleanse the temple is raising his temple (body) three days after his death. His resurrection validated his authority and claims.

3. God’s act of raising Christ expresses God’s approval and affirmation of Christ

As I looked across the New Testament, I found at least twenty-two times where it attributes the resurrection to God, often specifically to God the Father. God is the one who raised Jesus from the dead.¹⁸² For instance, 1 Peter 1:20–21 states that God “raised him from the dead and gave him glory.”

Although we might easily overlook this, such statements carry significant implications about God’s disposition toward Christ. Rather than signaling disapproval of Christ, which death by crucifixion could be taken to mean (see Mark 15:34), God’s resurrection of Christ vindicates him and implicitly communicates God’s approval of Christ. In this way, God contradicts the verdict that humans had placed on his Christ: that Jesus was nothing more than a criminal. God’s resurrection of him definitively declares otherwise.

In Acts 5:30–31, Peter declares, “The God of our fathers raised Jesus, whom you killed by hanging him on a tree.” Notably, Peter describes Jesus’s death as being hung “on a tree.” This language evokes Deuteronomy 21:23, which states that anyone hung on a tree is cursed by God. We might expect the apostles to be embarrassed by this fact: How could Jesus be God’s Messiah, the one in whom God delights, if he was cursed by God? Instead, they intentionally draw attention to this, since it underscores the significance of Christ’s death: He bore our curse (Gal 3:13). Yet Christ’s resurrection by the Father reverses that verdict: The one who was cursed by God has now been raised by that same God, signaling that punishment for sin has been absorbed and that sentence of condemnation overturned, i.e., justifying him.

So 1 Timothy 3:16 also refers to Christ being “vindicated [or justified] by the Spirit,” likely a reference to his resurrection by means of the Spirit (the New Testament elsewhere specifies the Spirit as the agent of Christ’s resurrection, e.g., Rom 1:4; 8:11; cf. 1 Pet 3:18).¹⁸³ God’s act of raising Christ vindicates (or justifies) him.

4. Christ’s resurrection fulfills the enthronement of a king from David’s line

In his Pentecost sermon, Peter argues that Christ has been exalted to God’s right hand, enthroned as the promised Davidic king (Acts 2:14–36). Peter observes that the tongues-speaking, which had just occurred, evidences that the Spirit has been poured out in fulfillment of Joel 2 (Acts 2:14–21; cf. Joel 2:28–32). And this, Peter concludes, evidences that Christ has been exalted with authority to pour out that Spirit (Acts 2:22–36).

Peter cites Psalm 16:8–11, where David, speaking of himself, confidently asserts that God will not abandon his anointed to death but will preserve him from his enemies. Yet Peter notes that David himself did eventually die and see corruption, and so Peter sees this psalm as anticipating a greater David and a greater act of preserving his Davidic king from corruption. According to Peter, Psalm 16 ultimately looks beyond David to his descendant whom God swore to put on his throne (Acts 2:22–30; see 1 Sam 7; Ps 89:3, 34; 132:11–12; Isa 55:3), and he identifies Christ as that descendent and Christ’s resurrection as that enthronement (Acts 2:31–33). Christ’s resurrection enables his exaltation to the Father’s right hand (Acts 2:34–36; Ps 110:1; see also Acts 5:30–31; Rom 8:34; Col 3:1; Eph 1:20–22; 1 Pet 3:22), from where he is granted authority to pour out God’s Spirit.

Moving to Acts 13:16–41, specifically 13:30–37, we find Paul making the same type of argument. Paul cites Psalm 2:7’s enthronement language: “You are my Son, today I have begotten you,” concluding that God appointed his messianic king “by raising Jesus” (Acts 13:33).

Romans 1:3–4 describes Jesus as “descended from David according to the flesh” but “declared to be [or appointed] the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead.” His resurrection signals his appointment to the Father’s right hand as the “Son of God,” i.e., the Davidic king.

5. Christ’s resurrection grants him universal authority

Matthew 28:18–20 also testifies to Christ’s post-resurrection kingship, namely, his regal authority. Following his resurrection, Jesus declares, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” Here he alludes to Daniel’s Son of Man receiving everlasting dominion over all nations (Dan 7:13–14).

As the resurrected Son of Man, Jesus now possesses all authority, commissioning his disciples to make disciples from all nations and teaching them to observe all he has commanded. In other words, because Christ possesses universal authority, they are to see that authority realized by making disciples from among all those nations (ἔθνος) over which Christ has authority. They are to bring them under Christ’s rule specifically by naturalizing them as citizens of his kingdom.

He is the “Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David” who has “conquered, so that he can open the scroll” in which is written God’s purposes to bring history to its redemptive end (Rev 5:1–5). But how has he acquired this authority? Instead of seeing a lion, when John looks he sees a Lamb who, despite having been slaughtered, now stands (Rev 5:6). In other words, it is through Jesus’s death and resurrection that he wins the authority to break this scroll’s wax seals thereby executing its contents (Rev 5:7–14): the enactment of God’s kingdom in the form of both judgment (Rev 6:1–17) and salvation (Rev 5:9–10; see also 7:1–8:1).

6. Christ’s resurrection vindicates him as the messiah by fulfilling the Scriptures

In Acts 26:22–23, as Paul testifies to the resurrection of Christ, he describes this as “nothing but what the prophets and Moses said would come to pass.” Christ’s resurrection, in other words, fulfills what the Old Testament Scripture’s anticipated (see also Acts 2:22–36; 13:30–37). In this way, Christ’s resurrection vindicates him as the messiah precisely because it fulfills Scripture’s testimony about the messiah.

Likewise in Acts 17:2–3, Paul reasons “from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead.” Having established this profile of the messiah, Paul concludes that Jesus, who fits that profile, must therefore be that very Messiah.

7. Christ’s resurrection confirms his appointment as judge

According to Acts 17:30–31, God requires all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will judge the world. But notice how this judgment will be conducted: by the agency of a man whom he has now appointed. Paul explains: “Of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.”

Jesus’s resurrection confirms that he is the one whom God has appointed to eventually judge all people (see also Matt 16:27; John 5:22, 27; Acts 10:42; 2 Cor 5:10).

8. Through his resurrection, Christ triumphed over demonic forces

First Peter 3:18–22, though a notoriously difficult text, reveals Christ’s victory over spiritual powers through his resurrection. Having died for the sins of the unrighteous (1 Pet 3:18), Jesus was “made alive,” i.e, resurrected, by the Spirit, after which he ascended into heaven and proclaimed his triumph over demonic spirits (1 Pet 3:19).¹⁸⁴ In other words, his resurrection enables him to claim victory over demonic spirits; it is his triumph over the forces of darkness. By his resurrection, he is seated at the right hand of God with “angels, authorities, and powers” subjected to him (1 Pet 3:22; see also Eph 1:20–21).

Hebrews 2:14–15 explains that God the Son took on human nature so that he might experience death and, through that death (and resurrection), destroy death itself. In this way, he defeats not only death but the one who held the power of death, that is, the devil. By releasing us from the fear of death, he releases us from the stronghold of the devil who wielded death over us.

So too, Paul declares that Christ disarmed “rulers and authorities,” publicly shaming them, by triumphing over them through his cross and resurrection (Col 2:11–15; see also 1 John 3:8). He knocks the weapon out of their hand, we might say, by ridding them of their ability to accuse us of sin.

9. Christ’s resurrection shows he successfully dealt with sin

In Romans 6:23, Paul states, “the wages of sin is death.” Death is the punishment for our sin. It is what our sins deserve, the “paycheck” sin earns for us. So for Christ to truly cancel sin, he must fully nullify its payment: death (Rom 6:23). Christ’s resurrection shows that he successfully paid our sin’s full debt. As we might say, it proves the check he paid for our sins didn’t bounce, but cleared.

Conversely, Paul reasons, if Christ hadn’t been raised, our faith wouldn’t save: We’d still be in our sins (1 Cor 15:17). For Christ not to have been raised from the dead would signal that sin had still not been dealt with. As Paul says later in this chapter, sin is the venom that brings death (1 Cor 15:55). Thus, for death not to be defeated would mean sin still stings.

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10. Christ’s resurrection was his own justification and, by extension, ours

In Romans 4:25, Paul confesses that Jesus “was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification.” He parallels Christ’s death for our trespasses with his resurrection for our justification.

Justification, receiving the verdict of “righteous” in God’s judgment, has both negative and positive dimensions. Christ’s death here addresses the negative: In it he bears the consequences of our crimes against God’s law. Conversely, in his resurrection, that verdict of condemnation is reversed: Christ is declared justified (see also 1 Tim 3:16). Inasmuch as Christ’s death is God condemning Christ (Rom 8:3), so his resurrection is God justifying Christ.

This makes sense when we consider Scripture’s teaching on resurrection. Resurrection was associated with the final judgment, when God would vindicate the righteous by raising them to glory and honor (Dan 12:1–3). Those who are raised to eternal life are the righteous (Rom 2:7; John 5:29). So to be raised by God in this sense is in effect to receive his verdict of “righteous.” Resurrection is proof of a righteous standing.

But, of course, we lack this standing on our own. Thus, as Paul says, Christ was raised for our justification. Christ’s own justification is the justification for all united to Christ who thereby share in his justified status. In him, we’ve already passed through the final judgment and received God’s verdict of “righteous.” As Christ identified with our sin (2 Cor 5:21), so we are identified with Christ in his justification. We are only forgiven of our trespasses inasmuch as we pass through Jesus’s death with him, and we are only justified inasmuch as we are united with him in his justification, that is, his resurrection.

11. Christ’s resurrection enables us to appeal to God for a clean conscience

According to 1 Peter 3:21, baptism saves us “not as a removal of dirt from the body,” but inasmuch as baptism embodies an appeal to God for a good conscience.

But how can we make this appeal to God for a clean conscience? Of course, in our sin we do not have clean consciences. So we cannot make this appeal based on our own record. Rather, the grounds for our clean consciences is Christ’s resurrection, “through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (1 Pet 3:21). Christ’s resurrection signals sin has been dealt with and our justification is secured, which secures for us a clean conscience.

12. Having been raised to indestructible life, Christ makes permanent intercession for believers

Hebrews 7 argues that Jesus is a superior priest compared to the Levitical priesthood. The Levitical priests served on the basis of the law’s requirement that priests be descendent from Aaron. In contrast, Christ’s Melchizedekian priesthood is established by his “indestructible life”; that is, Christ’s resurrection (Heb 7:15–16). The author of Hebrews makes his case from Psalm 110, which foretold of a future priest-king from Melchizedek’s order who will be a priest “forever” (Heb 7:17, 20; cf. “forever” in Heb 6:20; 7:24, 28).

Thus, one of the ways Jesus’s priesthood is better is that, unlike the Aaronic priests who died and so could only serve temporarily, Christ is “able to save to the uttermost,” since his resurrection-life enables his constant intercession, “forever” applying his finished work before the Father on our behalf (Heb 7:23–25).

Likewise, in Romans 8:34, Paul asserts that no one can condemn us since Jesus’s resurrection means he now intercedes for us at God’s right hand (see also 1 John 2:1).

13. Through his resurrection, Christ annihilated death and obtained immortality

Second Timothy 1:10 declares that through the gospel, i.e., Christ’s incarnation, death, and resurrection, he “abolished death.” Jesus absorbed our death, fully experiencing it on our behalf (see also Heb 2:9), and, having vanquished death, achieved immortality, that is, eternal resurrected life (1 Cor 15:50–57). Christ’s resurrection wasn’t mere resuscitation. Christ passed through death and emerged completely free from its claims on the other side. Through Christ’s death and resurrection, death itself has died.

Jesus overcame death and escaped its grip, so that we who are in Christ would share in his victory over death. We do not yet experience that victory. We still die. But we die knowing that death does not have a permanent grip on us. Eventually, at Christ’s return, Christ’s defeat of death will be applied to us as well, when this “last enemy” is to be destroyed (1 Cor 15:26).

Nonetheless, Hebrews 2:9 and 2 Timothy 1:10 make clear that this victory is already achieved in principle in Christ’s death and resurrection. It’s already been won. We are yet to experience it, but Christ has already defeated death for us. It’s a done deal.

So in Revelation 1:9-20, John records a vision he had of the Son of Man. In it, Jesus declares, “I am … the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades” (Rev 1:17–18). Keys represent authority, the power to lock and unlock. Jesus announces his dominion over death itself and over Hades, the place of the dead. The basis of that authority is his resurrection. Because he personally conquered death, he now has authority over it. This is meant to assure us as we face death: He has won the authority to release us from it. Through his resurrection, Christ holds authority over death.

14. Christ’s resurrection inaugurates the end-time resurrection of the dead

From the Old Testament’s perspective, God’s people looked forward to the day when he would intervene at the end of history to judge all of humanity, raise the dead, and decisively establish his kingdom. Resurrection belongs to this “end-times” category: It’s inherently eschatological.

Yet Christ’s resurrection has occurred in the middle of history, injecting the end into the present age. Jesus’s resurrection inaugurates that broader end-time resurrection. He is the first to rise, launching new creation in the midst of the old, fallen order.

For instance, Colossians 1:15–18 declares that not only is Christ preeminent (the “firstborn”) over creation (Col 1:15), since he himself is its Creator (Col 1:16–17), but now he is also preeminent over the new creation, since he is its source. “He is the beginning,” that is, he is the origin of this new creation, since he has launched it as “the firstborn from the dead” (Col 1:18).

Likewise, Acts 26:23 identifies Christ as “the first to rise from the dead,” signaling that his resurrection is representative of a larger resurrection. “First,” of course, assumes more to come. There is a broader group to which the first belongs. Christ’s resurrection belongs to, and is the first of, the general resurrection anticipated at the end of history. He is the first to embark into resurrection existence.

Other passages in Acts confirm this. For instance, in Acts 4:2, we see the apostles “proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection from the dead [pl.].” Notice, they do not merely proclaim that Jesus rose from the dead, but that “in Jesus” is resurrection from the dead (pl.). Jesus’s resurrection launches that broader resurrection from the dead, so it is in Jesus that the hope of that future resurrection is found.

Again, in Acts 17:18, Luke does not record Paul merely preaching Jesus’s resurrection, but “preaching Jesus and the resurrection” (emphasis added). According to Luke, for Paul to preach Jesus’s resurrection is also for him to preach the general hope of resurrection (see also Acts 17:32).

In Acts 23:6, when Paul describes why he is on trial, he does not merely say, It is because I preach that Jesus was resurrected. He assumes that to preach that Jesus is resurrected is to preach “the hope and the resurrection of the dead.” Jesus’s resurrection fulfills the Old Testament’s hope of resurrection and is the reason for our hope in resurrection. As Paul says later in Acts 24:14–15, 20–21, to be on trial for Jesus’s resurrection is to be on trial for “a hope … that there will be a resurrection” (see also Acts 26:6–8).

John 11:25–26, though predating Jesus’s resurrection, assumes it. When Jesus tells Martha her brother Lazarus will rise, she responds, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” She expresses the traditional hope in resurrection on the last day, stating that she knows her brother Lazarus will participate in that resurrection. Yet Jesus responds quite shockingly, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Jesus identifies himself with the very hope of resurrection life. It’s as if he says, You want to participate in that resurrection? You want to experience resurrection life? That is to be found in me. I embody that hope. Jesus is the source of our hope for resurrection, which he ultimately accomplishes by means of his own resurrection.

If you are familiar with John’s Gospel, you know that the beginning of John’s Gospel is structured by various signs. So here, Jesus claims, “I am the resurrection,” and then he signifies this by demonstrating his power to raise Lazarus from the dead.

15. Christ represents us in his resurrection, securing our future resurrection

In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul addresses some in the Church of Corinth who denied a future bodily resurrection while accepting Christ’s resurrection. Yet Paul argues these are inseparable: If there were no resurrection, then not even Christ has been raised.

Underlying Paul’s argument in 1 Corinthians 15:12–19, his presupposition, is the link between Christ’s resurrection and ours. His entire argument assumes that for Christ to be raised necessarily means that believers, those who belong to Christ, will be raised with him. Christ’s resurrection secures our future resurrection, such that for Christ to rise from the dead means we will be raised from the dead with him (see also 1 Thess 4:14). This means that to deny the future resurrection of the body—to deny our own resurrection—is implicitly to deny the gospel (1 Cor 15:1–11); namely, that Christ rose from the dead.

In 1 Corinthians 15:20–23, Paul uses two illustrations to describe the relationship of Christ’s resurrection to ours. First, he describes Jesus as the “firstfruits” of those who will be raised. This is agricultural imagery: When a farmer grew wheat or barley, the firstfruits were the first portion of the crop to ripen. As the first, they signaled that there was more to come. They represented the full harvest that would follow. In other words, Christ’s resurrection is the first of a larger resurrection harvest (see similar eschatological harvest imagery in Matt 13:36–43; Rev 14:14–20). His resurrection comes first, anticipating and guaranteeing the future resurrection for all those united to him by faith.

Second, Paul describes Christ as a “Second Adam.” Adam was what we might call a “public person.” He represented all of humanity, such that when he sinned, his sin affected us all. We all experience the consequences of his rebellion, namely, death came through him to us all. But Christ is a new “public person.” He represents a new humanity, acting on behalf of all those united to him. What the first Adam did, the Second Adam has come to undo (see also Rom 5:12–21). Where the first Adam brought death, the Second Adam brings resurrection-life. So at his coming, all “in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor 15:22). His resurrection includes and so guarantees ours.

Scripture will speak of believers being raised “with Christ” (Rom 6:5, 8; 2 Cor 4:14; 1 Thess 4:14; 5:10; 2 Tim 2:11)—not merely that Christ is raised and then we will be raised, as if those were two isolated things. Rather we are raised with him. In other words, our eventual resurrection is a participation in his resurrection, even though they may be separated by however many thousands of years. Our resurrection rides on the coattails of his. They belong to the same resurrection harvest.

According to Philippians 3:21, when Christ comes again, he will transform our current bodies to be like his resurrected body. We may be familiar with the idea that salvation involves being made like Christ. This happens progressively in sanctification as we are conformed to the image of Christ. But eventually, we will be made like Christ even in terms of our physical bodies: We will be raised from the dead (1 Cor 6:14). Salvation involves the entire person, including our physical selves.

In summary, Christ represents us in his resurrection. He resurrects on our behalf, thereby securing our future resurrection.

16. Believers already experience resurrection with Christ inwardly (spiritually)

Resurrection involves the renewal of the whole person. Yet, as we arrive at the New Testament, we discover that this promised end-time resurrection unfolds in two stages: one resurrection with two installments.

When Christ returns, those found in him will be raised physically (i.e., bodily). Yet even now believers experience resurrection with Christ inwardly or spiritually. In this latter sense, believers already participate with Christ in his resurrection-life. They have been regenerated—brought from death to life (John 5:21–24), born again (John 3:1–15), granted eternal life (John 3:16)—and so undergo a decisive moral transformation.

In Romans 6:1, Paul asks the rhetorical question, Should believers continue to sin since we’re saved by grace? His answer is an emphatic, “No!” since believers have undergone a death and resurrection in Christ. We have died with respect to sin’s tyranny and now, “just as Christ was raised from the dead,” so we too live new resurrected lives by the Spirit (Rom 6:1–7:6).

In other words, our justification, far from giving us a license to sin, necessarily involves our sanctification. God’s saving grace that forgives also transforms. The same union with Christ that results in our justification (Rom 5) also produces our sanctification (Rom 6). The two cannot be separated anymore than Christ can be divided: both are received in union with him. Not only have we died with respect to the penalty of sin, we have also died to the power of sin—and been raised to new life.

Likewise, in Ephesians 2 Paul describes believers as formerly “dead in trespasses and sins” (Eph 2:1). “But God,” by his grace, “made us alive [i.e., resurrected us] with Christ” (Eph 2:5–6; see also Col 2:12–13; 3:1).

Already, through Christ, we undergo the end-time resurrection. We experience the power of the age to come. We are part of that new creation. Inwardly, we are being renewed (2 Cor 4:16), even as we await the day when outwardly we will be raised. At that time, our bodies will catch up with what is already spiritually true of us (John 6:40).

17. Christ’s resurrection ushers in the renewal of creation

Resurrection belongs to the anticipated end-time renewal. At the very end of history, God was expected to raise the dead, bring about his new creation, and establish his kingdom in full. But, of course, Christ has already risen from the dead, launching that new creation in the midst of the present, fallen, created order.

Thus, those united to Christ already participate in the salvation and restoration that belongs to the end. Christ’s resurrection is a new creation reality, so those raised with him partake in this new creation. As ones raised with him, they too are a “new creation” (2 Cor 5:17).

This new creation involves a resurrected humanity characterized by the new covenant’s promised Spirit. So Paul teaches in 1 Corinthians 15:45–49: As we have born the “image” of Adam, a man created from dust (hear allusions to Gen 1:26–28; 2:7; 3:19), so we will bear the “image” of the Second Adam (Jesus) when we are raised with him (1 Cor 15:46–49). Where the first Adam received life, the Second Adam gives life through his Spirit (1 Cor 15:45), who animates life in the new creation (Rom 7:4–6).¹⁸⁵ The new Adam creates a new, resurrected humanity, conforming it to his image, thereby restoring it to the image of God.

We see this as well in Colossians 2:16–3:17. Because believers have died with Christ (Col 2:20; 3:3), they have stripped themselves of the “old self” (Col 3:9), better translated, “old humanity” (ἄνθρωπος). This old humanity is fallen humanity as it exists in connection to Adam. Because believers have been raised with Christ (Col 3:1), they have instead clothed themselves with “new humanity” (Col 3:10).¹⁸⁶ In short, death and resurrection with Christ transitions believers from old humanity to new humanity.

This new humanity recreated by Christ is “being renewed … after the image of its Creator” (Col 3:10; emphasis added), evoking the creation account (Gen 1:26–28).¹⁸⁷ Again, as believers are resurrected with Christ, they are renewed according to his image, thereby making us into a new creation that reflects the true image of God: Jesus.

18. Christ’s resurrection means our labor is not in vain

Seven times in 1 Corinthians 15, Paul uses words like “vain” and “futile” (ὄφελος, εἰκῇ, κενός, μάταιος) to describe how things would be if Christ were not raised—nor we with him. Our faith would be worthless. It would not save (1 Cor 15:17). So too, our preaching of Christ would be pointless (1 Cor 15:14). Paul would have endangered himself for nothing (1 Cor 15:30–32). In fact, Christians would deserve more pity than anyone else (1 Cor 15:19).¹⁸⁸

Consider Ecclesiastes, which issues its resounding refrain: “Vanity!” No matter what the Preacher searches out, it proves to be vanity. And the backstop, the ultimate reason for the vanity of all these things, is the reality of death. Even if you accumulate a bunch of wealth in this life, eventually you are going to die, and what will you have to show for it? Or even if you experience a lot of pleasure in this life, eventually it comes to an end. It is fleeting, and you will die. Or even if you accumulate something good like wisdom, the wise die just like the fool. Death is this ultimate “vanitizer.” No matter what you achieve or experience in this life, at the end of the day, death will always render it “vanity” (e.g., Eccl 2:12–17; 3:19–20; 9:1–6).

That is, unless death can be undone. So Paul concludes his instructions on the resurrection this way: “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Cor 15:58; emphasis added). Because of the resurrection, our labor is no longer “vanity.” By defeating death, Christ removes its verdict of vanity.¹⁸⁹ Our present labor matters because we labor for something that survives this present life. Death is no longer the final word. Resurrection is.

19. Christ’s resurrection is the reason for our hope

As we’ve seen, Christ’s resurrection is regularly associated with the theme of hope. Jesus’s resurrection is the fulfillment of Old Testament Scripture, the very “hope of Israel” (Acts 28:20; see also Acts 23:6; 24:15; 26:6–8). It is the climatic resolution to God’s covenants with Israel, the concluding chapter in a story whose hopes aimed at the reestablishment of God’s kingdom and the restoration of creation.

But Christ’s resurrection is not only the object of our hope, but also its basis. Peter reflects this in his opening doxology, where he blesses God who “caused us to be born again to a living hope” (1 Pet 1:3). Having been made alive now (“born again”), we become recipients of an even greater hope in the future. What is the grounds for this hope? Peter specifies: This hope is based on “the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Pet 1:3). Our hope is a “living hope” because Jesus is living. He is our hope.

In 1 Thessalonians 4, Paul explains the hope of believers who have died. He describes them as “asleep” (1 Thess 4:13).¹⁹⁰ In addition to being a polite euphemism for death (similar to how we speak of people “passing away”), this imagery of sleep also likely signals that death is temporary for the believer. Implied by “sleep” is the idea that they will eventually “awake” (so Dan 12:2). The picture is pregnant with hope, implicitly anticipating resurrection.

So Paul confirms that although believers grieve when our fellow Christians die, we do not grieve as those who lack the hope of resurrection (1 Thess 4:13). We grieve knowing that death is only temporary. Because Jesus rose from the dead, believers who have died in him will be raised with him when he returns (1 Thess 4:14–17; see also 1 Thess 5:10).¹⁹¹

Our ultimate hope in the face of death is resurrection with Christ. When he returns, we will mock that which once mocked us all: “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:54–57). On that day, we will taunt the very thing that once held us in terror (Heb 2:15).

20. Having been raised to life, Christ continues to work and reign today

Dead men don’t reign. But Christ is not dead. He is alive and actively at work among his people by his Spirit.

For instance, after Peter healed the lame beggar, he repeatedly clarifies that he did not do so by his own power. It is through Christ—who by implication is very much alive!—that Peter heals this man. It is actually Christ who has worked through Peter to enable this man to walk (Acts 3:6; 12–16; 4:10). Peter explains that Jesus, who has died, risen, and is now ascended into heaven, continues to work through his church.

So likewise, in Matthew 28:20, the resurrected Jesus promises, “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” The risen Jesus is present with his church, working and walking among the lampstands (Rev 1–3). He is not dead or distant, but present and involved in our lives.

In that, we take much encouragement.

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Kirk E. Miller’s recommended books for studying the resurrection

The Resurrection of the Son of God

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The Acts of the Risen Lord Jesus: Luke’s Account of God’s Unfolding Plan (New Studies in Biblical Theology | NSBT)

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The Hope of Israel: The Resurrection of Christ in the Acts of the Apostles

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The Hope of Life after Death: A Biblical Theology of Resurrection (Essential Studies in Biblical Theology | ESBT)

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The scene unfolds with stark irony: The innocent is condemned. The inscription nailed above his head declares a charge that belongs to the guilty who goes free.

Mark intends for us to feel the perversion of justice. But he also intends for us to see, beneath the injustice, something more profound. Mark tells us this story not merely as background to the crucifixion, but as a window into its meaning. And the longer we look through that window, the more we recognize ourselves in it.

Table of contents

The scene
The significance
1. The king who reigns by dying
2. The innocent who dies in place of the guilty

The scene

The Jewish religious establishment has delivered Jesus to Pilate for trial (Mark 15:1). Pilate realizes Jesus is innocent and that the religious leaders have handed Jesus over not out of genuine concern for Roman law but out of envy (15:10). Jesus’s popularity with the people had become a threat to their authority and influence (see 11:18; cf. 3:6; 12:2; 14:1–2).

So Pilate invokes Passover’s annual amnesty tradition as a convenient pretext to release Jesus. Every year at Passover, the Roman governor, as a means of pacifying his subjects, would let a single prisoner go free (Mark 15:6)—a fitting tradition, given that Passover itself celebrated Israel’s emancipation from slavery in Egypt. Pilate is hoping the crowd will pick Jesus. That way, he won’t have to condemn an innocent man and, at the same time, can avoid upsetting the Jerusalem establishment by declaring him guiltless.

Enter Barabbas. The text describes him as an insurrectionist and murderer (Mark 15:7). Judea had been seething with anti-Roman sentiment for decades. This one called Barabbas was likely a Jewish nationalist, a freedom fighter, who had taken up arms against the Roman overlords.

According to Matthew’s account, Pilate has the crowd choose between Jesus of Nazareth and another Jesus, called Barabbas (see Matt 27:16–17; cf. Mark 15:8–9). In other words, Pilate asks, Which Jesus will you choose,¹⁹² Barabbas, meaning “son of father,” or Jesus of Nazareth, who the reader knows is the true Son of the Father?

Pilate’s plan backfires, though, when the chief priests stir up the crowd to call for Barabbas instead (Mark 15:11). Asking what then should be done with this Jesus, called “king of the Jews,” the crowd demands his crucifixion (15:12–13). Pilate knows Jesus is innocent: “Why? What evil has this man done?” he asks (15:14). Yet he goes along with it. “Wishing to satisfy the crowds” (15:15), he caves to the pressure. He has Jesus scourged and then delivers him over to be crucified (15:15).

Pilate makes the cowardly but politically pragmatic choice. He would rather crucify an innocent man than risk causing disruption, a disruption that could threaten his governorship. He’s as spineless as he is selfish. For Pilate, this perversion of justice is a small price to pay in order to keep the peace and placate the influential leaders of Jerusalem. What is one eccentric Jewish teacher? He washes his hands to rid himself of guilt, as if he can (Matt 27:24).

The significance

Two interlocking themes emerge in this scene that together reveal the meaning of Christ’s death.

1. The king who reigns by dying

Pilate distinguishes Jesus as one called “king of the Jews” (Mark 15:9, 12). In fact, in the span of just thirty-two verses, this epithet appears a total of six times:

• On the lips of Pilate (15:2, 9, 12)
• In the soldiers’ mockery (15:18)
• In the inscription of his charge nailed above his head on the cross (15:26)
• By the sneering religious leaders as he hangs dying (15:32)

This title, of course, is given disingenuously. It specifies Jesus’s alleged charge as a failed revolutionary. The soldiers and religious leaders mock him with it, and yet Mark intends for his audience to see the irony: They are all, despite their intentions, telling the truth.

Incidentally, the crowd’s preference for Barabbas over Jesus reflects the type of messiah they were looking for. They wanted someone who would answer Roman occupation with violent resistance, who would take the kingdom by force. Barabbas was that kind of man.

Jesus represents a different type of Messiah. He is Israel’s true Messiah, the one the prophets said would establish an eternal throne, crushing every opposing kingdom under his feet (Ps 2:1–9; Isa 11:4–5; Dan 2:44–46). Yet he does not achieve that kingdom the way Barabbas tried to seize it. Rather, he comes to suffer for his people. The crowd chose the wrong messiah, not because Jesus wasn’t a king, but because they couldn’t imagine a king who reigns by dying (so too Peter: Mark 8:31–33; 14:47–48).

The cross, therefore, is not where Jesus’s kingdom–mission comes to its tragic end, but where his kingship is most revealed. Though they meant to mock him, calling him a “king” as he hung on a cross, Mark’s readers know it’s actually true: Jesus reigns from the cross. It is precisely in being crucified that Jesus is enthroned. On Calvary, he establishes his kingdom.

2. The innocent who dies in place of the guilty

And this king is a king who dies in place of the guilty.

Observe the irony. Jesus is charged with challenging Caesar’s rule by setting himself up as “king of the Jews” (John 19:15). Whereas Jesus is falsely accused of insurrection, crucified with two would-be revolutionaries on his left and his right (Mark 15:27), Barabbas, who goes free, is actually guilty of that very thing. Jesus is condemned for crimes in the place of one who is actually guilty of them.

Manifestly guilty, Barabbas deserves to die. In contrast, the passage stresses Jesus’s innocence. When Pilate asks, “Why [crucify him]? What evil has he done?” (Mark 15:14), the crowds are unable to provide an answer, because Jesus has done no evil. He does not deserve to be crucified. Jesus quite literally dies as the innocent in place of the guilty.

Added to this, Mark may in fact include allusions to Isaiah’s suffering servant, who suffers on behalf of God’s people, bearing their guilt.

• Jesus’s blood is “poured out for many” (Mark 14:24; cf. Isa 53:12).
• As he stood before Pilate, he made no answer (Mark 15:4–5; see also 14:61). As Isaiah 53:7 says, “He opened not his mouth.”
• Repeatedly across his Gospel, including this passage, Mark says Jesus was delivered to die (3:19; 9:31; 10:33; 14:10, 11, 18, 21, 41, 42, 44; 15:1, 10, 15), the same word used in Isaiah 53:6, 12 (LXX).
• Jesus repeatedly foretold that he would suffer many things (Mark 8:31; 9:12; cf. Isa 53:10), be rejected (Mark 9:12; cf. Isa 53:3), and give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45; cf. Isa 53:10).
• He is crucified between two criminals (Mark 15:27), “numbered with the transgressors” (Isa 53:12).¹⁹³

In other words, even before we arrive at this scene, Mark has prepared us to understand Jesus’s forthcoming death as guilt-bearing and on behalf of others (see esp. Mark 10:45). The passion narrative is not where these themes first emerge—it’s where they lead.

In this way, Barabbas’s release becomes an exemplification of the effects of Christ’s forthcoming substitutionary death. As David Mathis explains, Barabbas

embodies our plight as rebels deserving death, in need of saving. Jesus, the innocent, is delivered over to the punishment of death; while [Barabbas] the guilty one, deserving of death, is released and given new life. This was a foretaste of the grace that will be unleashed at the cross. … As Pilate releases Barabbas, the guilty, and delivers over to death Jesus, the innocent, we have a picture of our own release effected by the cross through faith. In Barabbas, we have a glimpse of our death-deserving guilt and a preview of the astonishing grace of Jesus and his embrace of the cross, through which we are set free. Here, as Jesus is delivered to death and Barabbas goes free, we have the first substitution of the cross. The innocent Jesus is condemned as a sinner, while the guilty sinner is released as if innocent.¹⁹⁴

Thus, Barabbas represents each of us. We are all Barabbas, deserving of death, yet the innocent Jesus dies in our place that we may have life. As the Reformer Benedictus Aretius put it,

Christ must die so that the robber may live; and so he lives by Christ’s gift, and rightly so. For we are the image of that robber—children of wrath, children of Adam, ministers of sin, instruments of Satan—and we could not be released if the innocent Son of God had not been made a sacrifice for us. Thus he is handed over for our great good.¹⁹⁵

The story of Barabbas invites us to see in Christ’s death a deeply personal exchange, his taking our place. Jesus is a king who reigns by dying—and that on behalf of his people.

Share your thoughts

How do you understand the inclusion of Barabbas in the Passion Narratives? Join us in Word by Word group to share your thoughts.

Resources for further reflection

Rich Wounds: The Countless Treasures of the Life, Death, and Triumph of Jesus

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The Final Days of Jesus: The Most Important Week of the Most Important Person Who Ever Lived

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Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die

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Scandalous: The Cross and Resurrection of Jesus

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It Is Well: Expositions on Substitutionary Atonement

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The Cross of Christ (20th Anniversary Edition)

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