Theology Matters

Faith Virtue Knowledge

Tag Archives: Jesus


by 2 Comments

Getting Revelation: Some pointers for reading the Bible’s final book

In periods of great trouble in the world, the Church has instinctively turned to the book of Revelation, and it is doing so again in the troubles of our own day. And though the study of the book of Revelation, along with Daniel in particular, and the other prophetic books, has taken the Church to some strange places, both in the past and in our own day, to turn to it in trouble is the right instinct. For trouble wrests our attention from the temporal, and forces our focus on the eternal. And Revelation speaks loudest to those whose gaze is fixed on Eternity; those whom the troubles of this temporal life have driven to ask eternal questions: Is there a God? If so, what is he doing in the world? Why is there suffering? What is the purpose of life? And…how does it all end? God’s Answer to these eternal questions is Jesus Christ. And that is what (or perhaps Who) Revelation is chiefly about.

Both the name of the book and its fuller title, come from its opening words apokalypsis Iesou Christou… “The Revelation of Jesus Christ…”. The Greek word apokalypsis simply means ‘revelation’ or ‘unveiling’. And it is unfortunate that its English cognate Apocalypse has taken on a whole new (and a wholly different) meaning. And that brings us to the first, and perhaps the biggest problem with the book of Revelation. Why are people confused when they read it? Surely the result of reading a book called “Revelation” should lead to more rather than less clarity! For its title promises a “great unveiling”; the “big reveal.” This is the punchline of History, and it is going to be fully and finally understood. And yet if we are honest, we have to admit that the Church has been all over the place with the interpretation of this book. Many Christians simply gave up reading Revelation, not out of laziness, but out of a feeling that its meaning was hopelessly obscure. I know. I was one of them. And that is a great tragedy! The whole point of the book is that there is something, Someone, that God wants to reveal. This principle will calibrate us in our study of Revelation. If we find ourselves getting confused, or worse, if we find our way to a novel kind of clarity that nobody else shares, then we have missed the point (or perhaps the End or telos, the word that Revelation actually uses). And that is almost certainly because we are just asking the wrong questions.

So, a word about questions. The answers that we get from Scripture depend substantially on the questions that we ask. So it is important to be asking the right questions. This, I believe, is what trips so many of us up when we come to the book of Revelation in particular. For one reason or another, far too many have come to Revelation seeking, in the words of Tony Ling, a “coded message about the end of the world” rather than “the Revelation of Jesus Christ.” To treat Revelation this way is an insidious error for two reasons. The first is that, like the best deceptions, the error carries some truth. Revelation is at the End of the story and thus necessarily concerns the End of our story; indeed of our world as we know it. But the word telos in Greek has a double meaning, just as the word ‘end’ does in English. For the telos is not just the chronological end, but rather the point; the reason for and the meaning of everything. So that when Revelation shines a light on the End, all of a sudden, all of the means to that End can for the first time be understood. But this part of the message is not in code. The good news that God is putting it all back together in Christ, though once a mystery is now revealed. It is not hidden. Revelation spells it out. And this brings us to the second reason. The purpose of all of Scripture is surely to reveal God’s character, nature and purpose through Jesus Christ. In doing so, Scripture at times sheds some light on the Enemy and on what he is up to, but the Enemy is not the main character. We need to approach Revelation asking what it is that God is up to in the world, not what the Enemy is up to. Revelation will not tell us much about the World Bank or the UN (or the US!) or the WHO or Bitcoin or credit cards or the internet. It doesn’t mean to. To ask who the dragon is–John, seemingly anticipates this tendency and tells us almost in exasperation: “that ancient serpent called the devil or satan”–is to miss the Point, the Telos. And when we interrogate Revelation with questions of this nature we not only miss the Point, but we pervert the intent of Scripture as a whole.

I am tempted to say something like the message of Revelation has never been more needed than it is right now. But while that may well be true, its message was sorely needed by the Church at the end of the first century AD, the period when its words were penned. And of course, it has been appropriated in and applied to many other periods of the Church including the Fall of Rome, the Protestant Reformation, the world wars of the 20th century. Is this the hour of the Church’s greatest need? God alone knows, but the Churches of the First century, particularly the Seven Churches of Asia Minor, who were the original recipients of the Revelation undoubtedly thought that their own time was.

And that brings us to the secondary point of Revelation: “…which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place.” Revelation does not only describe Jesus. There is no question that Revelation also describes events. And much of the argument over the meaning of Revelation concerns the interpretation of these events. Learning to read this genre of Scripture well reminds me of nostalgic memories in my childhood learning to watch cricket well with my Father. I say learning to watch it well, because believe it or not, like Revelation, cricket can be misunderstood if one does not understand the genre of sports broadcasting. Cricket is honestly a slow game. There is plenty of dead space between overs, and even between deliveries. And it has long been the practice of sports broadcasters to fill these gaps with analysis; with comparisons and with replays. When I was very young, this practice “caught me out” many times. I would be watching cricket with my Dad but was tuned out from the commentary. All of a sudden I would see a wicket fall but as I began to celebrate (“Dad! They’ve got another one!!”), my Dad, who was listening to the commentary but not watching the game would calmly say, “No son, that’s only a replay. That’s already happened.” So when I was learning to watch cricket, I got into the habit of asking my Father the following question: “Has this already happened, or is this happening now?” With biblical prophecy, we may do well to add to these two questions a third; “…or is this something that hasn’t happened yet?” Broadly speaking, these three questions correspond to three distinct approaches to Bible prophecy. Simplistically speaking, the belief that the events that Revelation refers to have already occurred is called preterism. The belief that the events describe the history of the world including the history of our own time–i.e. they are presently happening–is called historicism. The belief that Revelation describes future events is called futurism.

These descriptions are of course over-simplified but perhaps sufficient for a starting point. I need to say at the outset that I do not intend to select one of these approaches, or even to describe my reflections in these terms. The reason for this is that I do not believe that they are mutually exclusive. It seems to me self evident–and remember Revelation by definition deals with things that are, or at least are now, obvious–that Revelation describes the reality that the Church in the first century was facing. Even a cursory knowledge of early church history confirms this. But no knowledge outside of the New Testament is necessary. Revelation itself is addressed to actual churches in the First century and deals with, at least in chapters 2 and 3, the circumstances that those churches were facing in that time. So Preterism cannot be ruled out. However, Revelation describes the second coming of Christ and the coming of the New Heaven and the New Earth, which clearly has not happened yet. So Futurism must not be ruled out. And given the premise conceded by the vast majority of interpreters, that at least some of Revelation concerns events which have not yet occurred, historicism likewise cannot be ruled out, since ANY sequence of events detected means that even events future from the perspective if some readers will become present for other readers at some point. And surely it would be ridiculous to suggest that, when stretched taught over now nearly 2000 years, the (ever-problematic) designation “soon”, could not refer to ANY of the intervening events between the first century and our own.
There is one more “school of interpretation that sometimes vies for a place among the other three, and that is ‘idealism.’ The idealist view holds that Revelation describes neither exclusively what will happen, nor what is happening, or even indeed what has happened. Revelation describes in a general sense the sorts of things which tend continually to happen. As with the other views we find this approach to be at times self evident and at other times plain wrong. There are always churches that tend towards loveless legalism, just as there are always churches that are lukewarm that lull themselves into the false belief that they are spiritually alive when they are not. In the same way, what is good and of God is always opposed by what is evil and from the Enemy. But on the other hand, the Second Coming of Christ is not a metaphor, and the end of the world can happen by definition only once. Revelation of course teaches ‘ideally’ as does the rest of Scripture, but this is not the only way that it teaches. Allegories (or parables) are present in Scripture–more so I believe than we often realise–but as the Reformers taught us, we should never stray too far from the literal interpretation of the text. And so here again we find the desire for ‘neatness’ in our approach, which insists that these so-called schools of thought must be mutually exclusive, to be frustrated. They are all useful approaches

So much then to schools of interpretation, and to the division that they bring. Each approach is found to be useful, but only to a point. For when we slavishly adhere to any method, model, or approach to interpretation, we ascribe to method a place that only Scripture should hold and a value that only Scripture possesses. Humility demands that we should at least consider each of the approaches, just as faithfulness to the unique nature and claims of Scripture demands that method submit as servant, not rule as master.

As we approach each part of Revelation in turn then, we should be guided by questions like the following:

What does this passage reveal about the person of Christ? And thus,
What does this passage reveal about the character of God?
What does this passage reveal about the Church’s past? and thus,
What does this passage reveal about the Church’s present?
What might this passage reveal about the Church’s future?
How do the things revealed in this passage bring light to and make sense of other passages of Scripture?
How does this passage contribute to the overall message of the Revelation?


by 1 Comment

Audacious Faith for Supernatural Solutions to Enormous Problems

If you are facing a seemingly insurmountable problem, then this is for you. I pray that it blesses and encourages you. 

1 Samuel 14:6

Jonathan said to his young armor-bearer, “Come, let’s go over to the outpost of those uncircumcised fellows. Perhaps the Lord will act in our behalf. Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few.”

Nothing can hinder God…

1 Samuel 13 describes in detail the pickle that Israel had gotten themselves into. In the first place, their God-anointed leader, Saul, had disobeyed God’s direct instruction through Samuel bringing judgment both on him and on the nation that he represented before God. In the second, with an army of only three thousand fighting men, Israel had managed to provoke the Philistine army, which was now making preparations to annihilate them. This army, we are told, consisted of six thousand charioteers, two to a chariot, and soldiers on foot ‘as numerous as the sand on the seashore. But the equation only got worse. When Israel saw the position they were in, the army went into hiding in “caves and thickets, among the rocks, and in pits and cisterns.” Most simply ran away in fear. In the end, there were only 600 men left facing a foe of tens of thousands. In the third place, only two men among those 600 carried with them weapons of war. The oppression of the Philistines was such that Israel had been prevented from amassing the necessary arms for the battle. Things could not have gotten much worse. Indeed their situation, had it not been so desperate would have been almost comical. It could only have ended with their doom, were it not for the miraculous power of God. And yet, not even those circumstances could hinder God from what he had chosen to do.

I challenge you today to line up your own circumstances with those Israel was facing. Let faith arise. Let hope arise. Let boldness arise. If God did it then, he can do it now. Nothing can prevent God from saving because saving is essential to his character. Its not about how big your circumstances are. Its not even about how much God loves you (though he loves you more than you can possibly imagine). When it comes to saving, its about God remaining true to his character.

…from saving…
God is into saving because he is a saviour. God is into delivering because he is a deliverer. God is into granting victory over impossible circumstances. Watch how he does it:

1. Audacious faith arises. 

Despite all that had happened to Israel, Jonathan still believed that Yahweh is a God who saves. So do we by the way. The very name of Jesus (Yeshua) upon which we call for our salvation literally means “Yahweh saves.” Indeed this was the purpose of the mission of Jesus to the earth: to reveal God as saviour by effecting our deliverance from the oppressive enemies of sin and death.

But notice that Jonathan’s faith, while audacious, is not presumptious. It does not manifest as a manipulative insistence on a particular outcome. Indeed, it begins only as a flicker of hope—”perhaps the Lord will act in our behalf”. Rather, his faith is manifest in a dogged refusal to allow the present circumstances to compromise the revelation of God as deliverer—”nothing can hinder the Lord from saving…”. This is the same kind of faith that his close friend David will show three chapters later when he confronts the giant Goliath. Like Jonathan, he has no way of knowing whether God would act in a particular way at that particular time. Like Jonathan, David takes what seems to be a reckless punt on God’s unchangeable character. And just as here with Jonathan, God responds, proving true to his character, and delivering not only David, delivering the nation through him.

2. Contagious boldness replaces fear.

Light is stronger than darkness. And in the same way that a little light dispels a lot of darkness, it only takes a little boldness to dispel a lot of fear. The few that were left of the army of Israel, were so afraid that they had taken to hiding in caves and pits and cisterns. And yet as Jonathan decares his faith in God’s character, boldness takes hold. It spreads first to his armour bearer who says in response “Do all that you have in mind…Go ahead. I am with you heart and soul.” It then spreads to the entire army who, emboldened by Jonathan’s success join in the pursuit. 

At any point the Philistines could have woken up to the situation and realised that logically they were the superior army. Their pursuers were far less in number and weaponless. But fear is a funny thing. A little boldness can turn the weapon of fear back on itself. Have you ever thought about that? Fear is one of our enemy’s most effective weapons. Have you ever stopped to consider why? Your enemy fears you. Because he knows that if you will but realise who you are—a son or daughter of the King of kings and thus invested with his full authority and resources; if you will but confess your faith in God’s unchangeable character—an all powerfull God of deliverance who cannot be hindered from delivering from our enemies; if you will but step out in obedient action, your enemy will be utterly defeated. All of the fear and intimidation that keeps you bound and keeps you from pursuing God’s purposes is nothing but a con. Its bluff. Powerful though he may wish you to think him, he knows well what we would do well to remember. He is a defeated foe. Let boldness arise! 

3. A supernatural strategy/solution emerges. 

The idea was so ridiculous that it just might have come from God. But he still wasn’t sure. Jonathan’s plan was to come out of hiding and show himself to an outpost of the Philistines. If the Philistines called out to them to “come up,” that would be the sign that God would give him victory over them. But notice that if they decided to come down to him, that would have meant destruction for him and his armour bearer since they had already given away their hiding place. In other words, once he had committed, there was no safe option. He and his armour bearer would fight for their lives either way.

To follow the traditional route of “inquiring of the Lord” before the battle would have required alerting others to his plan, which would certainly have prevented its execution. Sometimes faith requires us to commit to a course of action and ask God to direct rather than just sitting around and asking God what to do next. And sometimes faith requires us to put ourselves in a position where God has to ‘show up’ or we’re done for.

4. God brings supernatural multiplication.

So Jonathan and his armour bearer did exactly what Jonathan had suggested. They stepped out of their hiding place and challenged the enemy. From this point there was no turning back. And their enemies called out to them to “come up”—the sign. And so, with growing boldness, that’s exactly what they did. They had to climb with hands and feet to reach the Philistine outpost, which in itself would have been exhausting, and as soon as they got to the top, they had to engage in a battle where they were outnumbered at least ten to one. And yet, as they simply spent the energy that they had, God brought a multiplication to their efforts. He supplied what they needed for the climb and for the assault—surely no small miracle in itself—but then God brought a panic on the Philistines. They were in total confusion and began killing each other. Another miracle. And then there was a great multiplication of the resources as the other Israelites came out of hiding and joined in the pursuit.

…by many or by few
And so God brought about a great deliverance for Israel. It was miraculous from start to finish, but in order to accomplish it, he needed somebody to respond to him in faith; to declare the truth of God’s unchanging character, and then to prove that truth by his faith filled action.

Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few. In other words, God always acts in a way that is consistent with God’s character. And he is not limited by what we perceive as limitations. If your enemy is debt and you only have a few dollars, if your enemy is stress and you only have a few hours, if your enemy is the godlessness of a city or region and you only have a few people, nothing can hinder God from bringing victory over your enemies. God will deliever by many or by few. The question is, will he do it by you?


by 4 Comments

Grace #1: The Kindness and Severity of God’s Amazing Grace

Consider therefore the kindness and sternness of God: sternness to those who fell, but kindness to you, provided that you continue in his kindness. Otherwise, you also will be cut off. Romans 11:22

God’s Grace is Simple

Some people think of God only as wrathful and judgmental; others as infinitely loving and gracious. Indeed, these are the stereotypical extremes between which the pendulum of Church culture and practice swings, as from age to age and culture to culture, the Church does its best to preach and to embody the good news of God’s restorative love. Both extremes, while they have an element of truth, if taken by themselves are of course inadequate views of God—not perhaps heretical untruths, but lamentable and limiting sub-truths nevertheless. The whole truth is that God is Holy and Loving, Just and Forgiving.

Sometimes, because of the limitations of our understanding, we characterise God’s attributes as if they are in tension with each other. We might say for example, God is love, but since he is also a God of justice, he cannot co-exist with sin. And yet, as theologians remind us, God is simple—that is to say he is not composed of parts. What God is, he is entirely. In other words, though we may at times be, God is not confused. The various aspects of his nature are not in tension. That is (at least partly) why, I believe, the verse above invites us to consider both God’s kindness and his severity. We cannot properly understand one without the other. God’s grace then, is not merely an operation of his kindness, but rather it is an operation of God himself. It must flow therefore from his kindness and his severity, from love and from holiness, from compassion and justice.

Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, or the big Marshmallow in the sky?

Over the last couple of decades there has been a (sorely needed) revival of interest in and emphasis on God’s grace throughout much of the Church. In part, I believe this has resulted from an increasing realization of just how broken the world is, and how the church has all too often prioritized conformity to a norm over genuine empathy and compassion. We badly needed a grace revival. Nevertheless, it is all too easy for a badly needed theological corrective to become and over-correction. To return to the analogy of the pendulum, I wonder if we are not beginning to swing ‘past the middle’ on this issue. If so, it is certainly not in our teaching of the historic truth of sola gratia (grace alone), but rather in our narrow definition of what God’s grace entails.

I can already hear the objection. “Surely its not possible to overemphasise God’s grace.” True enough. And yet the Scripture with which I began this post invites us to consider both the kindness, and the severity of God. If our proclamation of the gospel emphasises one of these elements at the expense of the other, it may well function as a prophetic message in a particular cultural situation where imbalance already exists, even though it is not the ‘whole truth.’ Jonathan Edwards’ now infamous sermon, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, is a great example of this. Edwards preached God’s wrath to a church that was complacent, proud, and dangerously apathetic, in order to provoke a response of repentance. We may well judge Edwards’ sermon (or its title—in my experience, most people who criticise it have never read it) from the perspective of a different cultural situation, as being lopsided, mean-spirited and judgmental. Edwards, it seems, considers only the severity of God, rather than also his kindness. His message is incomplete, but, I would argue, necessarily so. If an imbalance is to become balanced, it requires a counter balance.

In just the same way, however, the ‘grace message’ of today is in danger of considering the kindness of God only, at the expense of his severity. And while this message may perhaps function (or rather, may perhaps have functioned) as a necessary counter-balance in churches and cultures that are overly legalistic, it must be said that the contemporary Church, by and large, is currently somewhere near the opposite extreme. Furthermore, our western culture, into which this Church is called to be a prophetic voice; a culture whose central virtue is tolerance; could not be much further from the legalistic extreme that would legitimate a cheap-grace counterbalance. We need to be aware that a counter balance, if incorrectly placed may cause us to overbalance.

Neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more

My point is that if we define God’s grace as equivalent only to his kindness, rather than flowing from his character, then we limit the operation of grace, which, in its fullest manifestation, both forgives and heals the sinner. The two sides of God’s grace are perhaps most clearly and simply seen in the response of Jesus to the woman caught in adultery: “Neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more.” To respond to sinners with the second part of this saying only—go and sin no more—is clearly legalism, but to omit the second part is only license. True Grace responds with both parts.

It is vitally important that we teach the whole truth about God’s character and hence about his grace. This does not require ‘toning down’ the preaching about grace that has become so popular, but rather beefing it up. Surely if the truth sets us free, then the whole truth will set us completely free. For this reason, I have decided to do a ‘mini-series’ of blog posts on grace over the coming weeks. Stay tuned.


by 2 Comments

Forgiveness: Strength in weakness

I forgive you, but its not ok

There is a huge difference between saying “I forgive you” and saying “that’s ok” when somebody apologises. With many smaller offenses, the difference may seem inconsequential, but as we ascend the levels of offense (if you will), the difference becomes clearer and more important. For example, if you accidentally step on my toe and say “I’m sorry,” I may well say in return “that’s ok” or “it doesn’t matter.” We’ll call that ‘level 1.’ If you accidentally run me over with your car however, its not ok. That requires forgiveness. We’ll call this ‘level 2.’ If you intentionally run me over with your car, but later regret it and apologise, (‘level 3’) I may wrestle with my decision to forgive you. But if you intentionally run me over with your car, and never regret it, (‘level 4’) I’m probably going to struggle, and for a long time.[i] It is because of these higher levels of offense, that true forgiveness, the Christian way, has been denounced as powerless, permissive, and passive. It isn’t.

The high cost of forgiveness

I still remember the day my Mum read me the story of the crucifixion for the first time. I don’t mean the sanitised ‘kiddie picture bible’ version “…but they didn’t like Jesus. So they put him on a cross. Then God made him come alive again…”—just the real words of Scripture. A lump began to form in my throat and when it got to this part I could take it no more and began to silently sob: “They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand and knelt in front of him and mocked him. “Hail, king of the Jews!” they said. They spit on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again.” (Mt 27:28–31)

The detail is horribly graphic; the stripping and mocking intended to cause maximal humiliation. These men (along with the dehumanizing regime that saw them as expendable weapons of war rather than men) were incredibly spiteful, and utterly merciless. Jesus had already endured an unimaginable flogging, which many did not survive. Now they beat him around the head again and again with a rod (think baseball bat) for who knows how long; each blow driving the spikes from the ‘crown’ ever deeper. All this before the actual crucifixion. They were just getting warmed up. But it was not the graphic detail which brought me to tears. It was the sheer injustice of it. Jesus did not deserve this. And yet, he endured it for me.

Is 53:5–7 tells us that “…he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities. the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.”

He endured it for us, for my healing and for your healing from the contagion of sin. And even in the agony of his final moments, he begged for the forgiveness of the perpetrators of this crime “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” How truly it is said that he is our advocate before the Father, for this prayer was prayed not just for the soldiers who nailed him to the cross, but for you and for me and for every sinner for whom he died.

Jesus endured it willingly

But he did not endure it passively. On the contrary, propelled inexorably by a love that I cannot imagine, he endured it willingly.

Back in the garden, Jesus made this crystal clear. Seeing Jesus arrested was more than Peter could take. In what can only be described as a fit of characteristic rashness, he drew his sword, slashing wildly in panic (that’s the only conclusion I can draw) and ended up cutting off somebody’s ear. For this, he was met with a rebuke. Jesus declared that if he had chosen, the Father would have put at his disposal ‘twelve legions of angels’ to prevent his arrest and execution (Matt 26:51–54). Make no mistake. Jesus endured the cross willingly. This is what sets the suffering of Christ apart from all other human suffering.[ii] He chose it. And he chose it for our sake. His suffering is not passive; his submission not weak.

And that is why repentance must accompany faith. For when God declares our sins forgiven; when we in faith, appropriate his dying prayer for us, we realise the tremendous weight of our own sin—it was our hands that drove the nails in, though it was not the nails, but rather his love for us that actually kept him on the cross. Our sins have been forgiven at a great cost.

Strong faith-filled forgiveness

I say all that to say this. True forgiveness is not weak. Nor is it passive. When we extend God’s forgiveness of us, that Jesus earned on the cross, to others, as indeed we must; when we say “I forgive you,” it is an act of strong faith. Its not just saying “its ok, it doesn’t matter, its not that big a deal.” Nor is it saying “Well my feelings are not important, so its ok that you walk all over me.” Its not ok. Its never ok. No, saying “I forgive you” is far from passive. It is an active declaration of faith. When we say “I forgive you” we simultaneously declare two things. First, we acknowledge the seriousness of the offense—it was serious enough to send Jesus to the cross. Second, we declare in faith that we believe that Jesus paid the penalty for the offense committed against us. And that his payment is enough. We therefore voluntarily relinquish the right for revenge. It isn’t weak. It isn’t passive. It takes guts. It takes faith. And its powerful and liberating. And as Christians, who have freely received God’s grace, we have no choice but to freely give it to others.

[i] Obviously there are higher ‘levels’ and to think that this progression is strictly linear risks over-simplification, but work with me here.

[ii] I might also add that this puts to bed the ridiculous and frankly blasphemous notion of the suffering of Christ as ‘cosmic child abuse’ put about by those who seem to want to undermine the power of the Cross. But more about this, perhaps, in another post.


by 5 Comments

What is Truth?

“What is Truth?”

This is the pervading question of the postmodern age, but it is not a new question at all. This was in fact the very question posed by Pilate at the trial of Jesus, just over 2000 years ago.

Jesus answered, “You are right in saying that I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me. “What is truth?” Pilate asked. (John 18:37–38)

In my last post, I began to write about Jesus’ saying, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No-one comes to the Father except through me.” I started with the first claim: “I am the Way.” In this post, I want to deal with the next claim “I am…the truth.” In that post I showed that when Jesus said “You know the way to the place where I am going,” the way that he was talking about was Himself, not just the path of life that they would have to travel in following Him. In the same way, when 1 John 2:20 says that “…you have an anointing from the holy One, and all of you know the truth,” it is not referring (only) to the knowledge of certain facts about God, but about the knowledge of Jesus himself who is the location and fullest expression of the Truth concerning the Father, the Very Truth himself.

The tragic irony in Pilate’s question—What is truth?—is of course that the answer was staring him in the face. Jesus is not a Truth among many, just as he is not merely a way among many. Jesus is not just a teacher who proclaimed truth. Jesus is the Truth. And for that reason he is the necessary beginning and the end (that is, the goal) of any sincere search for truth. For to know Jesus is to know the Truth, and to seek the truth is to seek Him.

Fully God and fully human

It is therefore of the utmost importance to understand exactly who and what Jesus was. The Bible reveals Jesus as both Human and Divine; the Son of Man, and the Son of God. In the words of Peter’s confession, Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God,” (see also Martha’s confession in John 11:27) and in Thomas’ words, he is “my master and my God.” The truth that Jesus is both fully human and fully divine has been codified since the early centuries in the language of the creeds (“true God of true God. . .of one substance with the Father. . .who for us all and for our salvation. . .was made man”).

A true understanding of Jesus then is one that recognizes both his humanity and his divinity. So on the one hand Jesus is the truth about God. Jesus came to do the Father’s will on the Father’s behalf, and by so doing, to reveal the Father to us. When Phillip said to him “Show us the Father and that will be enough for us” (John 14:8), Jesus answered:

Don’t you know me, Phillip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me? The words I say to you are not just my own. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work (John 14:9–10).

On the other hand, Jesus is the truth about us. Jesus did not only come to represent God to us, but also to represent us to God. In Jesus we do not only see what God is like, we see what true humanity is like. Reading a Theology text recently,[1] I was challenged by the thought that we all too often devalue the image of God in humanity. We say for example, when speaking of a fault or a failure in somebody’s character, “well, he’s only human after all.” What we should say instead is “in that area at least, he is less than human.” The Bible tells us that humans were created very good—in God’s image and likeness—but that we fell through sin, becoming in the process something less than God’s original intent; less than human. Jesus came to reveal the Father, but he also came to restore humanity to the Father’s original intent, to be the image bearers of God who rule the planet on his behalf. The truth about Jesus is that he is fully human in a way that we ourselves can never be unless we find our identity in Him.

“Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free. . .” (John 8:31–32)

In order to truly know Jesus, it is important to believe and confess rightly about him (the theological term for this correct belief and confession is orthodoxy). Jesus himself said, that true worshippers must worship the Father in spirit and in truth. That is to say, we do not worship God truly unless we believe and confess him as he truly is. But this is only the start. To worship the Father in truth does not only mean worshipping him truly but worshipping the Father out of our true identity in Christ, that is, in Truth. Because it is only in Christ that the Father becomes our Father.

The goal is to know Jesus, not just to know about Jesus, but we must know about Jesus in order to know him truly.

You have to know the truth in order to be set free by the Truth

This blog is called ‘Theology Matters’ because of my conviction that what we believe about God (theology) determines how we live our lives. I pray you would know, fully experience and enter into the truth of Jesus, the one who is Truth, the one who reveals his Father to us, inviting us, in him, to call his father Our Father and the one who shows us what it is to be fully human.

[1] Larry Hart’s Truth Aflame.