Eschatology Archives - Mike D'Virgilio

Response Post: Kim Riddlebarger Against the Eschatological Optimism/Pessimism Paradigm

Jun 11, 2025 | Eschatology

I was born-again in the Jesus Revolution era of the late 1970s and it seemed dispensational premillennialism was what every Christian believed about “end times.” I had no reason to question it, so I waited expectantly for the rapture to happen at any time. In due course this “newspaper eschatology” got tiring because the disasters, and the rapture, never happened, and I checked out and got on with real life. I learned about other eschatological positions in seminary, but by that time I was eschatologically burned out and didn’t care anymore. I became an eschatological agnostic, or what I would later come to call it, a pan millennialist, as in, it will all pan out in the end. I thought “end times” stuff in the Bible was a confusing jumble of esoteric references beyond our understanding, so why waste the time.

Then in 2014 a friend told me about a teaching series Kim Riddlebarger did on amillennialism, I listened to it, and was hooked. I was thrilled because I was learning the Bible did indeed have something to say about “end times.” It was exciting, and not least because Kim is a tremendous teacher. If his name is new to you, Kim was the long-time pastor of Christ Reformed Church in Anaheim, California, an original co-host of the White Horse Inn radio program in the 1990s into the 2000s, and a scholar. So I went along my merry amillennial way until August 2022 when much to my surprise I embraced postmillennialism in one day. I wrote a piece in November of that year explaining my “conversion,” and I will quote myself to give you the premise for my interaction with Kim in this one:

I didn’t realize how our theology of “end times” determines how we interpret everything about the times in which we live, whether negatively or positively.

It seems Dr. Riddlebarger doesn’t much like this framing of how we postmillennialists think of eschatology. When I first came across this piece I’ll be responding to, I was not at all surprised.

As an amillennialists I found myself becoming increasingly pessimistic about the world and the Christian’s role in it. In fact, I came to mock my younger self for thinking I could “change the world.” How absurd. Sin isn’t going anywhere until Jesus returns, and we’ll just have to muddle along until Jesus returns and cleans this whole mess up. Then Trump. No, Donald Trump did not persuade me to become a postmillennialist. That was James White in a sermon entitled, “My Journey to Hope for the Future.” I’d become increasingly optimistic since I found Steve Bannon’s War Room after the compromised 2020 election, and was looking for a biblical justification for my optimism. I found that in postmillennialism, as will anyone who believes Jesus didn’t teach us to pray in vain, Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Kim, however, believes we have a “rather embarrassing shortage of biblical passages in the New Testament that teach such a view.” He’s aware that the Bible is made up of both a New and Old Testament, and speaking of the Old, Paul tell us, “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness” (2 Tim. 3:16). I became a postmillennialist specifically because I found it so exegetically grounded, both in the New and Old Testaments.

This assertion comes in the second paragraph of his piece, so you can see we’re not getting off to a good start. The article is from a 2011 issue of Modern Reformation magazine called “Eschatolog y by Ethos.” The magazine comes from the White Horse Inn guys, which includes Michael Horton, who I interacted with in my last post. I learned a lot from them over the years, but slowly realized much of their perspective on the faith wasn’t sitting right with me, especially as Trump came on the scene and contributed to so many of the red pill experiences I’ve had in the last decade.

Before I get started, I want to mention and define the two logical fallacies we’ve seen in the previous two pieces I’ve critiqued, and in this one. One is begging the question which means assuming the premise without arguing for it. The writer will make assertions about something without seeing the need to prove it, just like Kim did about the supposed exegetical problem with postmillennialism. We’re just supposed to agree with him because he asserted it. The other is the straw man fallacy. In this, the writer creates a distorted, exaggerated, incorrect, or invalid version of what the other side believes, and then refutes that and not the actual position. There are a lot of both of these fallacies in this piece, and it’s good to be aware of them as you read.

The Eschatological Optimism/Pessimism Paradigm
Right out of the gate he makes two inaccurate assertions about postmillennialism. I’ve already addressed one, and the second comes shortly after that. He says we determine the “soundness” of our “eschatological position using the optimism/pessimism paradigm.” This follows logically from his first assertion, that postmillennialism isn’t biblically exegetical, so of course he thinks we’re using something other than the Bible to establish it’s “soundness,” and he believes it’s this paradigm. I can assure you it is not. Since he assumes these two things, everything he says from here about postmillennialism will necessarily be inaccurate. He rightly says no Christian wants to be identified as a “pessimist,” and given we know who “wins in the end,” we shouldn’t be. But that doesn’t address how we regard what happens in this “present evil age” (he’s quoting Paul in Gal. 1:4). Did you catch the assumption in this reference? What Paul means, supposedly, is that evil in this age can’t be overcome because this age is evil, and optimism is not “the best category to use in identifying the essence of one’s eschatology.” Who said it was! Do you see how that works? It’s begging the question at its best.

Mind you, when someone does this, they aren’t intending to be deceptive. They simply believe what they’re saying is so obvious that the readers will of course see what they mean, and most importantly, agree with them. If you are not aware of assumptions and how they work, it’s easy to fall into their trap. If you read through the piece, you’ll see this everywhere, which is the reason it was such a frustrating read for me. I kept saying, “That’s not what we believe!”

Then we get to one of Kim’s fundamental assumptions coloring everything he says. That would be his amillennial eschatology, and a futurist understanding of eschatological passages. There are three options for reading a time frame into these passages. We can see them as happening in the past, preterist, during the course of history, historicist, and happening in the future, futurist. We can see here Kim is in the latter:

Jesus himself speaks of world conditions at the time of his return as being similar to the way things were in the days of Noah (Matt. 24:37-38)—hardly a period in world history characterized by the Christianizing of the nations and the near-universal acceptance of the gospel associated with so-called optimistic forms of eschatology.

He again thinks his readers agree with him without seeing the need to establish that Jesus is talking not about what he in fact said he was talking about, that generation he was speaking to. He makes that clear in verse 34:

Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened.

The you in Greek is the second person plural, so all the people he is speaking to, and “this” is the same in any language, a pronoun indicating the lifetime of those people. But to the futurist, Jesus wasn’t speaking about people in the first century and events they would encounter, as he seems to be saying, but about events that will happen far into the future. Preterists, on the other hand, believe Jesus was speaking of events that we know happened in the run-up to AD 70 and the destruction of the Temple. So Kim’s sarcasm about “so-called optimistic forms of eschatology” depends on a view he assumes is true but sees no need to prove, or at least acknowledge others see differently.

In the very next paragraph he presents Straw Man # 1 and a complete distortion of what postmillennialists believe:

Aside from the fact that many contemporary notions of optimism have stronger ties to the Enlightenment than to the New Testament. . . the New Testament’s teaching regarding human depravity (i.e., Eph. 4:17-19) should give us pause not to be too optimistic about what sinful men and women can accomplish in terms of turning the City of Man into a temple of God.

He doesn’t identify who these “contemporary notions of optimism” belong to or what they are, but since they are tied to the Enlightenment they are if not anti-biblical at least not biblically justified. Where these “notions” come from makes them problematic, but also the presumption of Christians thinking they can by their own power transform the products of sinful humanity into something holy. This is a common criticism among critics of postmillennialism and “optimistic eschatology,” that we think we can change things by what we do without the supernatural intervention of the Holy Spirit. Nothing could be further from the truth. The whole point is that we believe God by the power of the Holy Spirit is building His kingdom, extending Christ’s reign on earth, and building his church, and He does that through his body, the church, you and me, because he has no choice. That’s how it works. God has always used fallen, sinful, imperfect people to bring His kingdom to earth. Without God doing the accomplishing our efforts are in vain.

That is what postmillennialists actually believe, and thus our optimism is not in our strength or power, but solely in God and what He can do. We believe the point of Christ coming to earth was to establish his kingdom rule in this fallen world, to defeat the devil, to bind the strong man (Mark 3), and reclaim ground the devil took through lies and deception. It is in fact a reclamation project. What separates postmillennialists from other eschatological perspectives is that we believe Christ began reclaiming what is his, this earth and everything in at, at his first coming. He didn’t come and suffer and die and rise again and ascend to the right hand of God to leave his people to suffer in futility as they fight for righteousness, to “lose down her” while they wait for ultimate victory to come at the end of time and Christ’s return. We believe with Paul about Christ (I Cor. 15):

²⁵For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. ²⁶The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

Christ reigning “until” is not him sitting on his throne just observing while the world and sinful man goes on its merry way in sin and misery to destruction. And the word all in this case does mean all, as in each and every one. It’s not merely the enemies in our personal lives, but enemies everywhere in God’s created order. The other positions I reference also believe Christ is reigning, but his rule is limited to Christians and the church. Outside of that, the devil reigns and there isn’t much we can do or accomplish in the “City of Man.”

Why Optimism/Pessimism Is the Apt Description of Modern Eschatology
In the next section of his piece, Kim discusses the rise of optimism versus pessimism in eschatology with the book An Eschatology of Victory by J. Marcellus Kik, published in 1971. Kick comments on a variety of verses that speak to the victory of God in Christ in the messianic kingdom during the millennium (the period between Christ’s ascension and Pentecost and his second coming). Then he says, “We do not glorify God nor his prophetic word by being pessimists and defeatists.” So if postmillennialism is an eschatology of victory, then the other positions are eschatologies of defeat, thus optimism and pessimism, and Kim doesn’t like that.

Unfortunately, he has a distorted perspective of postmillennialism, thinking our optimism is determined by what we can do to the exclusion of the work of the Holy Spirit, but that is a straw man and not our actual position. The big bogeyman for him and people like him is cultural transformation, which he thinks is at best a distraction from the real purpose of Christianity. This, he argues, developed with the publication of two other books after Kik’s, R. J. Rushdoony’s Institutes of Biblical Law (1973) and Greg Bahnsen’s Theonomy in Christian Ethics (1977). With these books the concept of theonomy, or rule by God’s law, made its way into the Reformed conversation. The problem with that word and its variants is that nobody can agree on exactly what it means, and no two people agree on how it should be applied in a nation. Other than that, it’s great! God’s law must be the ultimate foundation of a nation’s laws, but that’s a (huge) conversation for another time, but regarding transformation he says:

With the publication of these volumes, a new form of eschatological optimism made its way into the Reformed bloodstream—one closely tied to the transformation of culture.

On the printout of the article next to this I wrote, “It wasn’t new!” It can only be new to him because of the assumption he makes about the purpose of the gospel, and how Christians prior to the 19^th century understood it. For all of Christian history, the purpose of Christ’s first coming was to transform this fallen world into a less fallen heavenly world. Bring heaven, as Jesus taught us to pray, to earth, God’s kingdom come, His will be done. Of course that is going to affect everything, from politics and governments to families and how they live in their communities, which means everything Christians put their minds and hands and effort into. That’s not just part of a Christian worldview and its influence, but bringing Christ’s kingdom reign over all things, a la Ephesians 1 and his reign at God’s right hand in this age, and the Great Commission (Matt. 28), Christ having all authority in heaven and on earth.

By contrast, for people like Kim, Mike Horton, and Carl Trueman, who I interacted with in my last two posts, their two kingdom Pietistic assumptions limit the extent of the gospel’s influence in the world and is a byproduct not a purpose of faith. Any transformation outside of the walls of the church has nothing to do with its true purposes, which are primarily “spiritual,” and thus about salvation of individuals and their personal holiness. Culture, as we’ve seen from Truman and Horton, is at best a distraction, and at worst a deceptive idol. Here is how Kim sets up his straw man. For “theonomic postmillenarians”:

“Optimistic” Christians are not only to evangelize the world, but they also must engage the surrounding culture with the goal of transforming it. Transformation of culture becomes the church’s mission.

In my printout I circled the word, “the,” as in “the” mission. Something can be part of something without becoming the primary thing, but in his mind it became that. The reason, as I’ve referred to it, is in the next sentence,

Transforming culture is no longer understood to be the incidental fruit of the spread of the gospel to the ends of the earth.

Exactly. The word incidental means it’s unplanned, so if influencing the culture for Christ because of the gospel is your conviction, you have now, according to Kim, made cultural transformation “the” church’s mission. How can people living together in society be incidental to the purpose of the gospel? And Christians never thought transforming what people do in relationship to each other in society was incidental to the spread of the gospel, but that is what he’s implying Christians have always believed. That is called historical revisionism.

If God decided the ultimate end of things, the wiping out of sin and suffering and death, was to be introduced into the world at Christ’s first coming, how can we not be optimistic? N.T. Wright calls it inaugurated eschatology. In other words, 2000 years ago God formally commenced bringing all the blessings to earth that will be fully realized at Christ’s return. John the Baptist and Jesus introduce his ministry with the exact same words, “The kingdom of God has come near.” And Jesus taught us two parables about the inevitability of the growth and influence of the kingdom, the mustard seed and leaven (Matt. 13). It would be slow and steady exactly because it is God’s kingdom, and he’s the king!

Most premillennialists and amillennialists, to one degree or another, believe sin in “this evil age” will always have the upper hand, and our efforts to combat it will be futile until Christ returns to transform everything in an instant. For them, the growth of the kingdom a la Matthew 13 only happens within the church walls. That’s what the gospel for them is about, transforming and discipling people, not nations, even though Jesus expressly states in Matthew 28 it is the nations, the ethnos, not individuals who are to be discipled. And this gets at their biggest distortion about postmillennialism. They think we believe it is our efforts to change culture that is of primary important, not the message of salvation in Christ. No postmillennialist believes the nations will be discipled without the power of the Holy Spirit working through the gospel in God’s people, and as Paul says in Ephesians 1, in this age:

¹⁹and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength ²⁰he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, ²¹far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. ²²And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, ²³which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.

There is much more to say along these lines in Kim’s article for anyone interested in learning more about what postmillennialists don’t believe.

Response Post: Mike Horton and Culturally Irrelevant Christianity

Jun 4, 2025 | Eschatology

In my last post I responded to Carl Truman and what I called two kingdom Pietists. These thinkers are every bit as dualistic as Gnostic Pietists, but with an intellectual bent. Mike Horton is another unfortunate example of this mentality and worldview. Horton is a professor at Westminster Seminary in California and author of numerous books. He’s influential in the Reformed community, but has written books for more general Evangelical audiences, so it is important to engage his thinking where he falls into the same trap as Carl Truman.

The piece I’m responding to, written in 2010, is called, “Transforming Culture with a Messiah Complex,” which gives you a hint of what’s to come. This is longer than Truman’s article with a plethora worthy of comment, but I will only be able to scratch the surface of what I think is aweful. Once you learn to see how the assumptions of the two kingdom Pietists work, you’ll learn to question everything they say. Let’s start in the first paragraph when he addresses those Christians who are talking about “transforming the culture.” This sounds good, but to Horton it is not:

The trouble is, these movements can conceive of the church as a substitute for Christ, shifting the focus of Christians from his promised return to your best life now.

The phrase, “your best life now” is a favorite whipping boy for Horton. By it he implies an undue worldly focus on the here and now which is incompatible with a truly spiritual and heavenly focused life. Or something like that. You can see here the distortion of Pietism, the dualistic overly spiritualized tendency to play this life off against the next. Like all forms of Pietism, the Christian life is primarily about going to heaven when you die and personal holiness. If you want a good life in this world, then you are guilty of compromise. When I see that phrase I think, what, am I supposed to want my worst life now? And I guess we’re supposed to be so focused on Jesus’ return, that this life becomes an afterthought or less important. As with Truman, these things are never fully defined or explored, just stated as if we all knew what they meant.

Confusing Liberal Christianity with Cultural Transformation
Horton spends the next several sections doing what most two kingdom Pietists do when criticizing cultural engagement or postmillennialism: comparing it to the liberal Christianity of the 19^th and early 20^th centuries. As with most of these critics, Horton is adept at distorting what people like me believe, setting up straw men, then refutes something that doesn’t even exist. For example, he compares today’s Christians focused on cultural engagement to the Pelagians of the Second Great Awakening, like Charles Finney, and other moral reformers of the time. Here is one such assertion:

True to their pragmatic and self-confident instincts, American Protestants did not want to define the church first and foremost as a community of forgiven sinners, recipients of grace, but as a triumphant army of moral activists.

This was most certainly true of the liberal Christians of the time who rejected the supernatural foundations of God’s word, but is a slander against modern Evangelicals who believe cultural transformation is a biblical imperative. We used to have a pastor like Horton at a Presbyterian church we attended. In a sermon he said those focused on the culture wars are basically rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. That did not make me a happy camper. Our pastor, and Horton, have a lot in common with D.L. Moody, the great 19^th century evangelist, who eventually embraced the dispensational premillennialism of J.N. Darby. Horton writes:

Although he was initially representative of Charles Finney’s social activism, Moody became increasingly pessimistic about the extent to which earthly empires could become the kingdom of God. “I look upon this world as a wrecked vessel,” he would later write. “God has given me a lifeboat and said to me, ‘Moody, save all you can.’”

Most Christians, unfortunately, accept some form of this societal pessimism, as I did to some degree until I embraced postmillennialism in August 2022. Then, according to Horton, I became a “social reformer.” Yet ever since I came across Francis Schaeffer when I was a 20 year-old college student, I’ve believed like he did that Christian cultural engagement is not an option, but like Horton I rejected postmillennialism because I thought it was just a repackaged liberal Christianity obsessed with secular progress. It most certainly is not. Horton just digs the hole deeper in continuing this comparison by comparing the left and the right, as all two kingdoms Pietists tend to do:

As George Marsden has documented in various places, both the Christian Right and the Christian Left derive from this late nineteenth-century evangelicalism. It is this quite recent train of thought (or, more precisely, activism), rather than the profound reflection of Augustine and the reformers, that guides contemporary evangelical activism. . . . The agenda for moral reform may have divided in liberal and conservative directions, but both owe their origin to the revivalism of Charles Finney.

Actually, the left owes its activism to Karl Marx, big difference. Attributing a moral equivalence between left and right is rampant among two kingdom Pietists, as we saw with Carl Truman. And notice the false choice Horton presents to us. Either you have “contemporary evangelical activism” or you have “the profound reflection of Augustine and the reformers,” but by golly you can’t have both! This dualism is so deeply ingrained among such thinkers that anyone who is an “activist” or believes in Christian cultural transformation is to them not spiritually serious. That is blatant calumny, or in a word more modern people would know, slander.

Far from being anything close to the liberal Christianity coming out of the 19^th century, modern cultural transformationists are solidly conservative Bible believing Christians. Such Christians, like me, have the temerity to believe the Christian faith was meant to have an impact on every area of life in everything human beings do. We believe the purpose of Christ coming to earth was to bring God’s kingdom and its heavenly influence into this fallen world, just as Jesus taught us to pray it should. This isn’t merely for the church, or for Christians in their personal lives, as the modern Pietists would have it, but for the entire earth, in biblical terms, for the nations who God through Abraham and the Patriarchs promised to bless 4000 years ago.

The Centrality of the Ascension Misunderstood

Then Horton gives a strange explanation of Christ’s ascension to justify his cultural apathy, one that I’ve never seen before. He titles it, “Under-realized Ascension, Over-realized Eschatology.” As he describes what must be a fully realized ascension, it will sound familiar from what all such two kingdom Pietists believe. Here’s how he puts it:

The time that the church thus occupies because of the ascension is defined neither by full presence nor full absence, but by a eucharistic tension between “this age” and “the age to come.” The church is lodged in that precarious place of ambiguity and tension between these two ages, and it must live there until Jesus returns, relying only on the Word and Spirit.

His concern is Christians replacing the absent ascended Christ with the church, and displaying an unrealistic triumphalism in the worldly or cultural matters in which it is engaged. In practice, this “precarious place” he describes means sin and evil triumph over righteousness in this fallen world, and victory is only meant for the world to come when Christ returns.

Then he makes a move all two kingdom Pietists do, where Christians do the “spiritual” things of “relying only on the Word and Spirit,” or, we have to conclude, they rely on themselves. This false choice, which I’ll dissect below, is a pernicious lie. Like all of these thinkers, Horton assumes we know what he means by “relying only on the Word and the Spirit.” We’ll notice he does two things without having to assert them because he assumes them. First, his self-righteousness is evident because anyone who disagrees with him about cultural engagement doesn’t rely solely on the Word and the Spirit, but he sure does. All two kingdom Pietists look down their noses in their supposed spiritual and moral superiority on we cultural engagers who are presumably not “relying only on Word and Spirit.” Only is a small very big word. Second, he makes these mutually exclusive. Either you agree with him and live in this “precarious place of ambiguity and tension,” and thus stop believing God’s kingdom can transform the kingdoms of this world, or you don’t rely on God. It’s like a spiritual Berlin Wall, and if you want to get out you’re basically a traitor.

This is how he perceives this strange idea of an “under-realized ascension.” I guess if you fully realized it, you’d give up these silly notions of God’s kingdom pushing back the effects of the fall and sin in the world, which means you have an “over-realized Eschatology.” What exactly does that mean? The word means the study (ology) of the end or final things, ἔσχατος-eschatos in Greek. It can also mean what the result will be at the end, so after Christ’s second coming. That’s the way Horton is using it. He’s accusing we cultural transformationists of thinking we can bring the final fulfillment of God’s kingdom to the here and now by our own efforts. And we do this by not just leaving Jesus alone up there sitting at God’s right hand, but dragging him down here to get involved in our futile culture wars.

As a convinced postmillennialist who believes cultural transformation is another phrase for discipling the nations, or the Great Commission (Matt. 28), I believe bringing the eschaton into this fallen world is exactly what we’re called to do. It’s crazy to think Christ came to earth, was tortured and shed his blood via Roman crucifixion, rose from the dead, and ascended to heaven to leave the world exactly the way it is, but that appears to be what Horton and two kingdom Pietists believe. To them, such transformation is a possibility in the church and in our personal lives, but that’s it. If it breaks out of the church walls, that’s gravy, unintended consequences of being like Jesus in our everyday life. By contrast what I and all postmillennialists believe is that the purpose of the gospel and Christ’s first coming was to bring the kingdom of God to earth, as I mentioned above. To put it another way, the kingdom of God is as all-encompassing as sin. Think of what that means for the kingdom’s influence on this fallen world. Wherever sin has had its miserable effects, the righteousness of God in Christ lived out through His people will reverse those effects, not just for the church, or in our personal holiness, but in everything we do as human beings made in God’s image. It’s a glorious vision for God’s people on earth. Here, by contrast, is the depressing vision of the two kingdom Pietists:

Yet we must wait for the restoration at the end of the age. We hope and act in the present not in order to save the world or build the kingdom of God, but because “we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken” (Heb. 12:28).

Ugh. We’re supposed to be like the disciples when Jesus was taken up before their eyes, and just look up waiting for him to come back. That’s the Christian life to Horton. Get out the lawn chairs, pour some ice tea, and wait for Jesus to return. Yet the angels mocked them, “why do you stand here looking into the sky?” In effect saying, get to Jerusalem so you can receive the Holy Spirit like Jesus said, then you can get about saving the world and building the kingdom!

The False Choice of the Two Kingdom Pietists
Horton spends the rest of the piece attempting to convince us this dualistic understanding of reality is the true Christian understanding. He wants to assure us that all of life is not “kingdom work.” He tell us what is:

proclaiming the Word, administering baptism and the Supper, caring for the spiritual and physical well-being of the saints, and bringing in the lost are kingdom work. Building bridges, delivering medical supplies to hospitals, installing water heaters, defending clients in court, holding public office, and having friends over for dinner are “creation work,” given a pledge of safe conduct ever since Cain under God’s regime of common grace. In this work, Christians serve beside non-Christians, as both are endowed with natural gifts and learned skills for their common life together.

Only when Christ returns in glory will the kingdoms of this world become the kingdom of our God and of his Christ. Until then, the New Testament does not offer a single exhortation to Christianize politics, the arts and sciences, education, or any other common grace field of endeavor.

The false choice is always one between the “spiritual” and the rest of life, as he calls it our “common life together” with the heathen where we interact on a field of “common grace.” Horton, like all two kingdom Pietists, believes the Great Commission has invalidated the creation mandate given to Adam and Eve. The former as he says here is for Christians doing “spiritual” things, and the creation mandate will only be fully realized when Christ returns. Let’s remind ourselves what this mandate was. In Genesis 1 after God created man, male and female he created them, He commands them:

²⁸God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

Sometime after this sin entered the world through man’s rebellion and ruined everything. God then declares curses on the man and woman, and on the ground itself, because of sin, and instead of blessing and flourishing in God’s created order, we’ve had hell on earth ever since. According to Horton and all two kingdom Pietists, that’s not going to change. Jesus came to pluck the embers out of the fire and not push back the effects of the fall and make his blessings flow “Far as the curse is found,” in the words of the great Christmas hymn, Joy to the World.

To put this in words most Americans might understand, in Horton’s Christianity there is a strict separation between church and state. Inside the walls of the church is where all the action is, where the kingdom is built, redemption happens, and the curses of sin are overcome by Christ’s righteousness and kingdom reign. Outside is a wasteland of sin, although we have the created order in common. These two kingdoms are completely separate and have nothing to do with one another. Yes, he says, Christians bring their Christian “worldview” to bear upon the common stuff, but as I’ve argued here in detail, a Christian worldview is not enough. Why? Because Jesus is King and has given us the Great Commission to disciple the nations, which means, as Jesus says, to teach them to obey everything he commanded them. Not some things, not most things, but everything. And the word in Greek is nations not individuals. Two kingdoms advocates explain this away. It doesn’t really mean entire nations, just individuals within those nations. Christianity comes down to individual salvation and personal holiness, a narrow, truncated, and limited view of Christianity which claims to be the biblical view, but effectively renders Christianity impotent outside the walls of the church. This is why the once Christian West became the totally secular West. The devil got the culture because Christians were doing the important “spiritual” things and didn’t think it worth fighting for.

The New Testament, according to this view doesn’t offer us, as he says, “a single exhortation” to “Christianize” outside of the Church, as if that was dispositive, as if that settled the matter conclusively. It doesn’t! This is the worst kind of biblicism, as if something isn’t expressly addressed in the New Testament, God has nothing to say about it. The Apostles and the New Testament church didn’t have anything to say about “politics, the arts and sciences, education, or any other common grace field of endeavor,” because those things didn’t exist! Life in the first century Roman Empire was a bit different than life in 21^st century America. None of the early Christians expected I would be writing this, and you would be reading it 2,000 years later, so of course they didn’t address issues that took centuries and millennia to develop.

Thankfully, we don’t have to chop up reality because there is only one king, and his name is Jesus. As he told us, he has been given all authority in heaven and on earth, and that means here and now. Paul confirms this in Ephesian 1 when he tells us God raised Jesus “from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come.” Paul had to remind his first century audience that Jesus would also have all power and dominion in the age to come because everyone took it for granted Jesus was king in this age, in this fallen world, over all the nations, and everything and everyone in them. One kingdom, one King over all.

What Our Citizenship is in Heaven Really Means

Feb 5, 2025 | Eschatology, The Gospel

When I became a Christian in the fall of 1978, born-again as we used to say, it was into the kind of Christianity described by three words: Pietistic Gnostic dualism. It was a campus ministry where I imbibed what I now see as an over spiritualized version of Christianity. I look back at the time fondly, living among a group of young people who took their faith seriously, but eventually I realized they saw the important things in life being the spiritual, like Bible reading, prayer, church, evangelism, and the like, and everything else being less important. It was implicitly a bifurcated take on reality, something divided into two separate spheres, some things are in the sphere of the spiritual and thus important, and other things in the sphere of the material and mundane, and thus not so important. I say implicitly because I’m not sure this was ever overtly taught, but I started to see reality through a Christian lens perfectly described by these three words.

Because of this, I want to consider Philippians 3:20 & 21 and how my young Christian self interpreted this passage, and how most Christians do so today as well.

²⁰But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, ²¹who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so they will be like his glorious body.

Back then, my citizenship being in heaven obviously meant heaven is my home, where I belong, where I feel most comfortable. I don’t belong to this messed up old fallen world which, after all, belongs to Satan. As we’ll see, it doesn’t mean that at all, but it sure sounded to me like it did. From a Pietistic Gnostic dualism perspective it made perfect sense. The old hymn says it best while getting it exactly wrong:

I’m but a stranger here,
Heav’n is my home;
Earth is a desert drear,
Heav’n is my home;
Danger and sorrow stand
Round me on ev’ry hand;
Heav’n is my Fatherland,
Heav’n is my home.

The hymn was written by Henry Bateman in the mid-19^th century when the concepts from these three words were coming to dominate the Evangelical church in light of the Second Great Awaking. As dispensational premillennialism and fundamentalism began to dominate the church in the 19^th century, all but taking it over in the 20^th, the words of this hymn became axiomatic. Of course heaven is my home! Verse 20 would bring others to mind like I Peter 2:10, where Peter calls Christians foreigners and aliens, or sojourners, the idea being someone residing in a strange country, just passing through. This idea appears to be confirmed in Hebrews 11, the great hall of fame of faith. Speaking of Abraham, the writer says:

¹⁰For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.

Clearly, that’s not the city I now live in on this earth. The writer seems to make it even more clear, using the phrase like Peter that these heroes of faith “were aliens and strangers on earth,” and then telling us:

¹⁶Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

That settles it! This earth is not our home, which is off somewhere else not here, a spiritual heavenly home, and the point of the Christian faith is that when we die we get to go there. Jesus even told us in John 14:2:

My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?

Clearly, Jesus is telling us this place is off somewhere else, not this earth, and this place is where we’ll go when we die.

Then if we combine all this with passages in the New Testament telling us this world belongs to Satan, it has to be an open and shut case. For example, Paul calls Satan “the god of this age” (2 Cor. 4:4), and “the ruler of the kingdom of the air” (Eph. 2:2). The Apostle John tells us, “the whole world is under the control of the evil one” (I John 5:19), and he also makes a strong contrast between “everything in the world,” and those who do the will of God (I John 2:15-17). As horrible as the world can be, it seems kind of obvious it fulfills the phrase often ascribed to some of it, a hell hole.

Looking back I can see why all of this this would have made sense to me, but I’ve come to realize it’s a distortion of the biblical message of the kingdom, in fact an upside down distortion. Jesus came not that we might escape this world for heaven, but that we might be part of him bringing heaven to this fallen world through us. God in Christ is making this world our home because God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son for it. It’s a package deal, us, the people he came to save (Matt. 1:21), and His creation, which as Paul says is “groaning as in the pains of childbirth,” (Rom. 1:22,23) itself to be redeemed with our bodies at the resurrection. This process of making it our home started at Jesus’ first coming, and will ultimately be fulfilled at his second. The big disagreements in the church are about what happens between these comings and what it all means.

The Biblical Orientation of the Christian Life
As we consider the dominant other worldly perspective of most Evangelical Christians today, the question before us becomes one of the proper, biblical orientation of the Christian life, whether our focus is this life or the life to come, and even what these concepts mean. The are two reasons these verses in Philippians are so important to the Christian life in the 21^st century. One is the improper interpretation, and the other is the contrasting proper interpretation which completely changes the orientation of the Christian’s life. The contrast is powerful and instructive. In the improper interpretation, it’s like we’re living in a foreign land where we don’t speak the language or know the customs, and we’re constantly longing to go home where we belong, to the familiar, the beloved, the comfortable. In the proper interpretation, we are home in this world, living where we belong, among the people we know and a culture of familiar sights and sounds and feels, even as we seek to improve it and make it a better, more heavenly place to live.

Because of Pietism, these verses tend to be interpreted by most Evangelical Christians in a dualistic way, in effect making us so heavenly minded we become no earthly good. That’s overstated, but it’s imperative we understand the point. In Francis Schaeffer’s image, modern Christians live in a two story reality where upstairs is the important spiritual stuff, that which is related to faith, and downstairs the mundane, material, not so important stuff, and everything not related to faith. I’ve heard this version of Christianity compared to red double decker buses in England, with the spiritual and important stuff on the upper deck, and the not so important mundane and material stuff on the lower deck. Thus we get the term dualism, or the idea of two separate parts or ideas determining how we understand and live our lives. I add the qualifier Gnostic to dualism because we’re seeking a kind of secret knowledge about that other spiritual life apart from this world. Whether we think about any of this consciously or not, it does affect all of us.

The correct orientation gives us an exciting fundamentally transformational and engaging vision for our lives, while rejecting an escapist two-story Christian mentality. Think about it. If we view this life, this world, like a sinking ship eventually going down, or a burning building, our instincts are going to be to get the heck outta here! If we see our efforts to save the ship or the building as futile, how motivated are we going to be to put in the effort to transform it? This is the reason a few years ago I stopped praying for revival. I know what you’re thinking. I’m so earthly minded I’m no heavenly good! Actually, I decided I needed to expand that prayer, so now I pray not just for revival, which Christians tend to view as people being saved so when they die they can go to heaven, but also for renewal, restoration, and reformation as well. I call it praying the four Rs. Notice I don’t pray for revolution because the objective isn’t change into something new and different, but a fulfillment of God’s created order toward its perfect ends. Notice each of the additional Rs don’t seek metamorphosis, a worm into a butterfly, but transformation into fulfillment of what God always intended his creation to be, very good.

This is what God has done in redeeming and reconciling His creation to himself, reversing the effects of the fall “far as the curse is found,” in the words of Isaac Watts’ great Christmas hymn, Joy to the World. The four Rs are a prayer, but it takes more than prayer. We must add our efforts inspired by those prayers to bring to fulfillment God’s grand design in the cultural or dominion mandate given to Adam in Genesis 1:

²⁸God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

We are to fulfill the mandate in the second or last Adam (I Cor. 15:45) where the first failed, which is an exciting vision for the Christian life, especially in contrast to the escapist, we belong somewhere else version of Pietistic Christianity. The question is which vision or version is Paul communicating in these verses.

Citizenship in the Ancient Roman World
The history of the Ancient city of Philippi is central to how we should understand our Christian mission in a fallen sinful world. A city in Macedonia (modern day Greece), Philippi was originally founded in 360 BC and named Krenides which means springs. Shortly thereafter it was conquered by Philip II of Macedon, the father of Alexander the Great, who renamed the city after himself. He saw its potential commercial importance due to neighboring gold mines and its position along the great royal trade route running east to west across Macedonia. The Third Macedonian War (171-168 BC) marked the end of its Hellenistic period when Philippi was conquered by the Romans, and continued to develop its significance in the Roman Empire.

Because of that significance, one of the most important battles of antiquity took place there in 42 BC. Following the assassination of Julius Caesar in 44, his heirs Mark Antony and Octavian, called the Second Triumvirate, confronted the forces of his killers, Marcus Junius Brutus and Gaius Cassius Longinus, outside the western walls of the city. In effect, it was the end of the Roman Republic, as both Brutus and Cassius committed suicide in a losing cause. The battle was part of a long series of civil wars in the Roman Republic that would eventually turn into the Roman Empire ruled by one man, a Caesar. In the decades following, Octavian and Antony released some of their veteran soldiers to colonize the city, and in 27 BC when Octavian was proclaimed as Emperor Augustus, he reorganized the colony and established more settlers there. Philippi was now developed as a colony of Rome, administratively modeled on the Empire’s capital, governed by two military officers, the duumviri appointed directly from Rome. It can also be seen in the city’s layout and architecture as a colony resembling a “small Rome.” Phillipi is also indicative of how Rome developed regions into the larger Roman Empire to extend its influence.

The military and political history of Philippi is the contextual metaphor for Paul’s words to the Philippian Christians in these verses. The Apostle visited Philippi in 49-50 AD on his second missionary journey. As Paul and his companions were traveling they intended to take a turn and visit Asia, but Paul had a vision of a man begging them to come to Macedonia, so they went left to Europe and forever changed Western history. Luke tells us (Acts 16),

¹²From there we traveled to Philippi, a Roman colony and the leading city of that district of Macedonia. And we stayed there several days.

We learn through their visit about the highly valued status of citizenship in the Greco-Roman world, conferring rights, privileges, and responsibilities within a city-state or the Empire itself. Without it, a person had no rights or recourse to abuse by the state. We see this play out in Paul’s experience as the city’s magistrates give him and Silas their version of non-Roman citizenship justice. They are both in fact citizens of Rome, so we can see the stark contrast of how Roman citizenship confers benefits not offered to non-citizens.

Paul became a Roman citizen at birth because his parents were citizens, and he used that to his advantage when he had to, as we see here in Philippi. A slave girl had been following Paul and his companions for many days, harassing them to the point where Paul had finally had enough and exorcised her. She lost her money making power to predict the future, resulting in Paul and Silas being arrested, “severely flogged,” and thrown in prison. As the men were singing hymns to God at midnight, there was an earthquake and the prison doors flew open. Thinking the prisoners escaped, the jailor was ready to kill himself, but Paul told him not to harm himself because none of the prisoners had escaped. He famously asked what he must do to be saved, and he and his family became the second converts in Europe after Lydia and her family.

The next morning Paul and Silas were told they were allowed to leave, and that’s when Paul played the citizenship card:

³⁷But Paul said to the officers: “They beat us publicly without a trial, even though we are Roman citizens, and threw us into prison. And now do they want to get rid of us quietly? No! Let them come themselves and escort us out.”

The city magistrates got nervous when they heard this because punishing and putting a Roman citizen in prison without a trial could be capital offense. Trying to appease Paul, they escorted them from the prison and asked them, nicely I gather, to leave the city.

Citizenship in Rome and in Heaven
From this story and the history of Philippi, we can see the dynamic at work Paul had in mind when he used the phrase, “our citizenship is heaven.” Here is what he did not mean. You citizens in Philippi, your real home is Rome, Italy, itself, and your goal as a Roman citizen is to go back there. You’re only here in Philippi for a short time, so don’t get used to it because you will only really belong when you get to Rome. Here, in contrast, is what he did mean. As citizens of Rome, you are creating in Asia Minor a little Rome, bringing all the dynamics of Roman civilized society and order to an outpost that knows nothing of the blessings of Roman citizenship. In that way, the Roman Empire and its influence and blessings will flow well beyond the city’s borders.

Notice Paul also says, “we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ,” and not we eagerly await going to heaven to meet our Savior there. It would be the same as saying we eagerly await Caesar to come from the capital of the Empire to visit the outpost we’ve been building so he’s just as at home in Philippi as he is in Rome. He will be looking to see how successfully Philippi has been in replicating Rome as an outpost of the First City.

The first thing we need to know and then be continually aware of is Christ is King. In Matthew 4 after his baptism in the wilderness and at his most vulnerable after fasting 40 days and nights, Satan comes to tempt him in various ways.

⁸Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. ⁹“All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” ¹⁰Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’”

Prior to Christ accomplishing his mission, Satan was the king of the world, the earth and its kingdoms belonged to him. The most radical and momentous moment in human history was about to happen, and nothing would ever be the same after. Only without the eyes of faith do we not realize the radical revolution that took place only a few short years after this cosmic confrontation. In Acts 17 when Paul and Silas were in Thessalonica, the words of the Jewish leaders captured well the consequences of what Christ accomplished when they say in exasperation, these men “have turned the world upside down.” More like right-side up!

Christ officially became King, experienced his coronation, at the ascension, something we read about in Acts 1. If you happened to see the coronation of King Charles III of England in May of 2023, you’ll get a small sense of what the coronation of Jesus must have been like when he ascended to heaven. We read about it 500 years before it happened in Daniel 7:

¹³“I saw in the night visions,

and behold, with the clouds of heaven
there came one like a son of man,
and he came to the Ancient of Days
and was presented before him.
¹⁴And to him was given dominion
and glory and a kingdom,
that all peoples, nations, and languages
should serve him;
his dominion is an everlasting dominion,
which shall not pass away,
and his kingdom one
that shall not be destroyed.

Many Christians believe this is a future event that will happen at Christ’s second coming, his Second Advent, but Paul in Philippians 1 doesn’t allow us that interpretation:

That power is the same as the mighty strength ²⁰he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, ²¹far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. ²²And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, ²³which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.

The conclusion from the plain text of Scripture and supported by the entire history of redemption, is that Christ became King of this world, dethroning Satan, at his first coming. Further, his rule and reign started then, not just over the hearts of Christians, but as both these passages proclaim, over every single thing, every single person, and every single power spiritual and temporal. I’ve always loved how Paul seems to be saying his rule in the present age is so obvious, so accepted by Christians, they have to be reminded his rule is also for the age “to come.”

This absolutely essential aspect of Christian theology is all but ignored in Evangelical Christian churches. For most of my Christian life, the ascension never stood out to me as an indispensable theological foundation of the Christian life. From this foundation we live our lives in confidence, optimism, and the hope of victory both in this life, as well as in the one to come. That age to come will be in a resurrected body on this earth, redeemed, renewed, and reconciled to its Creator. In that hope we “eagerly await a Savior from there” when Jesus not only comes to visit this earthly colony of heaven, but because we have made it a “little heaven,” he will make heaven of the entire earth!

Eschatological Assumptions and AD70

Nov 20, 2024 | Eschatology, Uncategorized

From early in my Christian life I knew Jerusalem was completely destroyed, decimated, by the Romans in AD70. However, before I embraced postmillennialism in August 2022, I didn’t realize the significance of that event both eschatologically and theologically. I also didn’t understand the importance of assumptions, and how they inevitably determine how we interpret everything, literally, including eschatology and theology. We are assuming creatures. Presuppositions are built into our worldview, how we see and think we know things. That is called the discipline of epistemology. Having presuppositions means we assume certain things, we pre‑suppose them.

Most people know what assumptions are, but few have any idea of the role they play in how they view the world, how they understand, process, perceive, and interpret reality. In fact, most people don’t believe they assume anything at all! But they do; all human beings do because technically we can’t “prove” anything. Ask someone how they know what they assert or claim. More often than not you will reveal they don’t know something, but simply assume it. For example, the assumption behind “True for you, but not for me” is that thoughts are their own justification. People assume that nothing outside their own thoughts or feelings can determine whether what they believe is true or false. Of course, just because someone thinks a thing is true, doesn’t make it so. Such an assumption can’t be proved and there is no evidence for it; it is merely assumed as if it is true. Uncovering hidden assumptions is one of the most powerful tools in our truth armor, and also a cause for epistemological humility, something in short supply among sinful human beings, Christian or not.

I’ve learned when we come to eschatology that assumptions are baked into the cake. We can’t read any eschatological text in the Bible without bringing certain assumptions to the table, and few Christians are even aware their assumptions determine how they interpret the text. Given most pastors never teach or explain what I just said, and also given most Christians have not been educated to the degree we all wish we could have been, assumptions are mostly invisible, as if they didn’t even exist. This is especially true when it comes to eschatology. Which brings me to AD70 and the fall of Jerusalem.

Preterism, Futurism, Historicism, or Idealism?
These are four approaches to eschatology, and I’ll briefly explain each one.

Preterism – The word comes from the Latin preteritio, meaning “a fact or condition of being in the past.” So preterists believe biblical prophecy already happened in the past, especially the Olivet Discourse (Matthew 24; Mark 13) as referring to the Roman army’s destruction of Jerusalem and the temple in A.D. 70. Preterists also argue that the Apostle John wrote the Book of Revelation before A.D. 70 and that it describes Nero Caesar’s persecution of the church. The references to judgment on Babylon refer to Israel, not Rome. We’ll discuss this in more detail in a moment because since I’ve embraced postmillennialism I’ve become a preterist (partial for those who know what that means).

Futurism – In this position as it implies, biblical prophecy is about the future, post AD70. So the events Jesus and John refer to will happen well after the first century, and in fact haven’t happened yet. Premillennialists and dispensationalists are futurists, and they tend to believe Revelation was written after AD70.

Historicism – From gotquestions.org: “In theology, historicism is an approach to eschatology and prophecy in general. In historicism biblical prophecies are interpreted as representative of literal historical events. Historicism looks at the whole of Bible prophecy as a sweeping overview of church history, from Pentecost to the end times. This approach involves interpreting symbols or figures in the Bible as metaphors for actual events, nations, or persons of history. Historicism was especially popular during the Reformation, when it was used to suggest that the Catholic Church was part of the end-times apostasy, with the pope as the Antichrist.”

Idealism – This approach differs from the others in its reluctance to identify any particular historical events, institutions, or people with the visions of the book of Revelation. Revelation to idealists is a portrayal of the church’s struggle throughout the entire period between the first and second comings of Christ.

I was a pan-millennialist (eschatological agnostic) for most of my Christian life, but when I embraced amillennialism in 2014 I embraced idealism. It made sense to me because I assumed that eschatology was so difficult a topic to grasp that a general application of the basic ideas throughout time seemed to fit the text. I’d rejected dispensationalism a long time ago because it was basically newspaper eschatology driven by headlines and predictions that never came to pass, and I knew absolutely nothing about postmillennialism so that was never an option, until it was. I thought I knew it was a completely discredited position and unworthy of seriously considering even though, like I said, I knew nothing about it. Until, that is, it dropped out of the sky on my head in August 2022. Now preterism makes total sense, and even more so the more I learn about it.

Back to assumptions. We will interpret eschatological passages depending on our assumptions based on these four positions. Given premillennial dispensationalism is the dominant position held by the vast majority of Evangelicals, whether they could articulate that or not, most Christians are futurists.

Before we get to discussing the date of John writing Revelation, I will briefly mention why preterists feel the need to use “partial” as a qualifying adjective. Preterists believe Jesus came again, as I’ll explain, in judgment against Israel in AD70, and for some of them that’s it. That’s Jesus’ second coming and there will be no other. Needless to say, that’s the extreme minority report in Christianity historically, and considered heresy. Non-heretical (partial) preterists believe Jesus came in judgment then as well, but also believe there is some futurist elements to the prophetic witness as in the creed that, “He will come again to judge the living and the dead.”

Before Jerusalem Fell
This is the title of a book by Ken Gentry I recently read that made a compelling case for John writing Revelation before AD70. I had no idea given the post-AD70 position is by far the most popular in Christianity today, that the pre-position was so strong. In fact, I was under the impression that the post position was beyond if not question, then beyond a reasonable doubt. However, anyone reading Gentry’s book will have to conclude there is very much a reasonable doubt. Whatever conclusion one comes to having studied the evidence, it has to be acknowledged that the pre-AD70 position is credible and worthy of consideration. For me, it’s beyond a reasonable doubt, but I also bring my postmillennial assumptions to the evidence, so I want it to be written before Jerusalem Fell. I can’t look at it any other way because those are my beliefs and deeply held convictions.

Since we can’t completely escape our assumptions, we need to at least be aware we have them. This allows us to see how Revelation and the Olivet discourse are interpreted with the various approaches to the text. As I said, almost all Evangelical Christians are futurists, so it’s easier for them to believe Revelation was written after Jerusalem fell even if the evidence doesn’t support that. Exactly what is the evidence? There are two types of evidence, and Gentry goes into great detail on each one. I’ll explain them briefly, but before I get there we must come to some agreement on why John wrote Revelation. These are the two choices:

Post AD 70 during the reign of Domitian (reigned 81-96)
Pre during the reign of Nero (reigned 37–68)

Of the various ways to interpret the text of Scripture, what we call hermeneutics, the most important is authorial intent. In other words, what was the intention of the author who wrote the words. The second most important is what the author’s audience would have reasonably been expected to believe. To put this in laymen’s terms, context is everything in interpretation.

We know whether it was written in the 60s or 90s, persecution was the context. Historians are in agreement that the Neronic persecution in the 60s was more intense than any persecution under Domitian. Nero didn’t start out as the horror he became, but when he decided Christians were the enemy, he went all in. Christians were thrown to the lions in arena for sport, covered with tar, put up on poles and burned alive. It was so horrific that Romans began to feel sorry for them, especially because Nero seemed to be doing it to blame the Christians for the great fire of Rome in July 64. Nero even had the two great leaders of the early church, Peter and Paul, killed. Imagine living in that time, and the abject fear you live with every day that you could be next. This kind of mindset filled with foreboding would not have been present in the 90s under Domitian. Eusebius in his Church History provides the first reference to Domitian persecuting the church writing over two centuries later in the early fourth century. Speaking of the context of Revelation, Gentry writes:

Revelation has two fundamental purposes relative to its original hearers. In the first place, it was designed to steel the first century Church against the gathering storm of persecution, which was reaching an unnerving crescendo of theretofore unknown proportions and intensity. A new and major feature of that persecution was the entrance of imperial Rome onto the scene. The first historical persecution of the Church by imperial Rome was by Nero Caesar from A.D. 64 to A D. 68.

In the second place, it was to brace the Church for a major and fundamental re-orientation in the course of redemptive history, a re-orientation necessitating the destruction of Jerusalem (the center not only of Old Covenant Israel, but of Apostolic Christianity and the Temple).

If Revelation was written in the 60s that will necessitate a rethinking of the futurist interpretation, but if it was written in the 90s, then the futurist interpretation of the prophecies to the distant future is more plausible. A lot rides on dating the writing of Revelation. Few Christians, unfortunately, are aware of the arguments one way or the other, and even as well-read as I am, a seminary graduate no less, I knew nothing about any of this until I read Gentry’s book. The two types of evidence are external and internal, and we’ll look at the former first.

External Evidence
I never knew exactly why the consensus was a late date, and Gentry does an extensive survey of the scholarly opinion because scholars have been wrestling with this question for a long time. The evidence for the late dating of Revelation depends completely upon the external evidence, that is evidence coming from comments in the writings of the early church fathers of the first three centuries of the church. All scholars agree whatever their opinion of the dating, that John was banished to the barren, virtually deserted Island of Patmos, as John himself tells us in the first chapter:

I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation and the kingdom and the patient endurance that are in Jesus, was on the island called Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.

To put it bluntly up front, the external evidence for the AD90s writing of Revelation is weak. Yes, my assumptions as a preterist make me inclined to believe this, but you judge for yourself, and a short blog post is not going to convince you one way or the other. Reading Gentry’s book is a good start, but I will briefly lay out the case here.

The late date external evidence rests most heavily on the church father Irenaeus (130-202), and he wrote about it in Book 5 of his work, Against Heresies, written in 180-190. The context is in a passage where he’s commenting on identifying who “666” might be. Here is the passage:

We will not, however, incur the risk of pronouncing positively as to the name of Antichrist; for if it were necessary that his name should be distinctly revealed in this present time, it would have been announced by him who beheld the apocalyptic vision. For that was seen no very long time since, but almost in our day, towards the end of Domitian’s reign.

Apparently for many scholars that settles it, but not so fast. Gentry says, “there are several considerations that tend to reduce the usefulness of Irenaeus for late date advocacy,” and then he goes into exhaustive detail on each one.

The first issue is the translation of the Greek, and while it’s impossible for me to address the issues in short order here, let’s just say there are enough questions to raise reasonable doubt as to the meaning of the text. There is also the issue of Irenaeus writing almost a hundred years after the events, and questions about his chronological understanding of the history he writes about. Gentry reviews other church fathers who comment on John and Domitian, but most of them depend uncritically on Irenaeus. Gentry concludes, “A bold ‘thus saith Irenaeus,’ cannot be conclusive on the matter.”

Internal Evidence
To me the internal evidence, i.e., the content of the book itself, as they say in a court of law, is dispositive, which is “an adjective describing something that resolves a legal issue, claim or controversy.” In court it gets us beyond a reasonable doubt, and I am confident if you studied the internal evidence, you too might get beyond such doubt. I can only briefly review it here.

I will refer to the thoughts of others, but I start with the most obvious “proof” to me coming from the very first words of the book:

The revelation from Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place.

The late date advocates and those not disposed to the preterist position have to explain away “soon.” For the futurist, I have to believe “soon” really means thousands of years into the future, and for the historicist it is also hundreds if not thousands of years in the future, and for the idealist it isn’t any time at all. I think it’s best to take words in their plain meaning, and take soon to mean, well, soon, just as I take Jesus in Matthew 24 when he says “this generation will not pass away until all these things come to pass” to mean, that very generation of people he was talking to.

Gentry gives us the “major lines of evidence” from various scholars, each of which he then explores in detail, but here I will just list them to give you a flavor of why the internal evidence for an early date (pre AD70) can be so compelling.

The peculiar idiom of Revelation indicates a younger John, before his mastery of the Greek language evidence in his more polished gospel from a later period.
The existence of only seven churches in Asia minor (Rev. 1) indicates a date before the greater expansion of Christianity into that region. (I would add John addressing “the seven churches in the province of Asia,” with the definite article indicates there were in fact only seven at the time, while 40 years later in the 90s there would have been considerably more.)
The activity of the Judaizing heretics in the Church (Rev. 2, 3) should be less conspicuous after a broader circulation of Paul’s anti-Judaizing letters.
The prominence of the Jewish persecution of Christianity (Rev. 6,11).
The existence and integrity of Jerusalem and the Temple (Rev. 11) suggests the early date.
The reign of the sixth emperor (Rev. 17) must indicate a date in the AD 60s.
There is lack of internal evidence for a late date.
The nearness of the events had no fulfillment beyond the dramatic events of AD70.
It is easy to apply Revelation’s prophecies to the Jewish War.

Lastly, I’ll mention two points he addresses from scholar F.J. A Hort. First, the language of Rome and the Beast fits the dreadful last days of Nero and following in the late 60s, not the local and short reign of terror under Domitian. Hort further claims, “Nero affected the imagination of the world as Domitian . . . . never did.” Second, the tone of Revelation fits much better with the tumultuous time after Nero’s death much better than the stability of the time of Domitian.

Wherever we come down on the dating of Revelation, what happened to Jerusalem and the temple in AD70 was the redemptive and covenantal turning point in history, definitively from old to new, separating Christianity from Judaism once and for all. God’s judgment on the Jews led to the salvation of the world, and in due course the Jews too.

Societal Transformation by the Sword of the Spirit

Nov 13, 2024 | Eschatology, Politics & Government, The Gospel

When I embraced postmillennialism after four plus decades as a Christian, I encountered ideas I’d never seriously considered before, like theonomy, or what God’s law over a nation would look like. Or what a Christian nation is, or even that a nation should be Christian. Ever since I first read Francis Schaeffer’s The God Who is There around 1980, I’ve always been a worldview Christian who wanted Christianity to influence the culture, but I never considered the nuts and bolts of governing a society from a biblical perspective. Like many Christians I wanted the Christian worldview to influence how our country is governed, but being a post-World War II conservative I was for all intents and purposes secular. I didn’t believe the so called separation of church and state meant the separation of religion and state, yet the idea of our nation or any nation being specifically Christian was never something I considered until postmillennialism.

Like most Evangelical Christians, I read the Great Commission of Matthew 28 through a Pietist lens. We’ll remember Jesus’ charge to the eleven disciples:

¹⁸Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. ¹⁹Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, ²⁰and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

Even though Jesus distinctly said “nations,” like most others I read it as, “make disciples of all individual people.” I’m sure I thought a corporate body like a nation can’t be discipled, so Jesus must mean individual people, that is if I ever thought about it at all, which I didn’t. Clearly Jesus used the word nation to give us a vision of the worldwide nature of the great commission, that it would be people, as the Apostle John says in Revelation 5, “from every tribe and language and people and nation.” But post post-mill, I now looked more closely at the word nation in Greek, which is ἔθνος-ethnos, which means a race, people, nation, “or people joined by practicing similar customs or common culture.” It is instructive that he didn’t use a comparable Greek word for persons, for individuals. Since God doesn’t use words randomly in Scripture, this choice of wording by Jesus must be significant.

Which brings me to the reason for this post. I’ve found whenever the topic of a Christian nation comes up (let’s stay away from the loaded term Christian nationalism), most Christians, let alone non-Christians, think of force. I wrote about this recently after I heard Larry Arnn, President of Hillsdale College say, “a Christian nation is an oxymoron.” I yelled at my little MP3 player as I was listening to him say that, “No, Larry, a Christian nation is not a contradiction in terms!” Why would he think such a thing? Why would any Christian think such a thing? Because, as he implied when he continued to explain, if a nation is Christian, that means Christians are forcing the people of the nation to believe and behave a certain way. No, Larry, they are not! That’s not what Christians do, ever, even if some have done it in the past. Mark Rushdoony explains why Arnn and others believe this:

Theocracy is falsely assumed to be a take-over of government, imposing biblical law on an unwilling society. This presupposes statism which is the opposite of theocracy. Because modern people only understand power as government, they assume that’s what we want.

Yes, there was a time in Christendom when Protestants and Catholics killed one another because of their beliefs. It had more to do with geopolitics than faith per se, but nonetheless, Bloody Mary Tudor of England killed some 300 Protestants who refused to repent and become Catholics, burning them at the stake. And Catholics murdered several thousand Huguenots (Calvinists) in France during the infamous St. Bartholmew’s Day Massacre in 1572. As the Reformation grew, Protestants fought back and we got the so called Wars of Religion. You get the picture. That’s not what we’re talking about when we talk about a Christian nation. Nobody can be or should be forced to believe anything.

The Failed Rationale of Secularism
This fratricide among Christians lead to the development of the Enlightenment concept of secularism, the idea that a nation could be irreligious, or secular, and that would obviate the need for Christians to kill one another. Nobody would be forced to believe something against their will. That was the idea anyway. It hasn’t exactly worked out as secularists thought it would. As we can see, secularism hasn’t turned out to be the pluralistic peaceful Utopia its adherents promised. The reason is simple to understand. No government can be morally neutral, and some worldview, some faith commitment, some religion, will always drive the moral framework, i.e., laws, of a nation. In the history of the world, Christianity was the only religion and worldview that gave us liberty and the rule of law, which is critical to understand if we’re to contrast it with secularism, which inevitably leads to tyranny, something modern secularists, both Christian and non-Christian, do not seem to realize.

I need to repeat my claim, strongly, so it’s clear, especially to conservatives who still buy into the myth of neutrality: Secularism will always inevitably lead to tyranny. America and the West circa 2024 is exhibit A. We call this version of tyranny woke, a variant of cultural Marxism. Only a Christian nation, a nation committed to Christ as its ultimate sovereign, and the Bible as its ultimate moral guide, will allow for true freedom of conscience and political liberty. Secularism, by contrast, can give us no rational for liberty because all the competing worldview (moral) claims in a pluralistic “Utopia” have an equal claim upon ultimate authority, and only one can win. The secular state always has the upper hand because it claims to be irreligious, and the people assume it can be too. The referee is not in the game but determines the rules of the game and will enforce those rules, which will always be moral and thus religious in nature. The inevitable totalitarian nature of secularism is well made in the book Classical Apologetics by Sproul, Gerstner, and Lindsley:

The impact of secularism . . . has been pervasive and cataclysmic, shaking the foundations of the value structures of Western civilization. The Judeo-Christian consensus is no more; it has lost its place as the dominant shaping force of cultural ethics. . . . Sooner or later the vacuum (the rejection of theology in the West) will be filled, and if it cannot be filled by the transcendent, then it will be filled by the immanent. The force that floods into such vacuums is statism, the inevitable omega point of secularism.

And this was written in 1984! Secularism has proved to be a jealous God, and if you question that God, the state, you will be made to pay. The delusion of secularism is part of what came to be called the post-World War II “consensus.” The illusion held when the remnant of Christian culture was still the worldview of most Westerners, but in a post-Christian environment secularist statism has turned completely anti-Christian. We’ve had to re-learn something the early church quickly realized. The assertion that “Jesus is Lord” is a political statement, one which means Caesar is not. Our ultimate allegiance is to the Lord Jesus Christ revealed to us in Scripture, and thus it cannot be to the state. The only means for the state to enforce its will is the sword, or violence, because the state is power not persuasion. That is the distinction we must understand if we’re to get it right as we implement Christendom 2.0.

Christianity and Liberty by the Sword
When we speak of the sword in the context of a Christian nation, it has a dual meaning, and both of these meanings are the only foundation for true liberty. The seed of this liberty goes back four thousand years ago. After the flood and the Lord scattering the people from Babel, humanity was heathen, and would have remained so, lost to truth, had not God taken the initiative and called one man, only one, out of Ur of the Chaldeans (southern Iraq) to go to Canaan. This was the bifurcation point of history which created the two branches of humanity, the heathens, whom God did not call, and His people, starting with this one man. Think of it as the proverbial fork in the road. Down one fork, sinful humanity remains benighted, lost in sin and darkness, trying to figure out reality and what it means, but only having the revelation of creation. Down the other are God’s people given verbal revelation directly from the Creator God.

God promised Abram all the nations of the earth would be blessed through him, and the theme of blessing the nations runs throughout Genesis. Most see the word blessing and think of a kind of vague happiness, things going well, circumstances to our liking, something like that. This is not at all what the Bible means by blessing. Christians can be blessed in very bad circumstances because they belong to their God, forever, but God’s blessing extends to every human being. A simple definition is to bestow divine favor. I like to extend this definition from something I heard in a lecture on the book of Genesis by Dr. Mark Futato of Reformed Theological Seminary. He defines blessing as empowerment. When God blesses people He empowers them to do a wide variety of things, as he puts it, “God empowers people to flourish.” I love that! Secularists paint Christianity as repressive and intolerant, but what it represses and doesn’t tolerate is sin! Sin destroys everything it touches and makes true flourishing impossible. It is by definition dis-empowering. Jumping forward two thousand years, Jesus says the same thing (John 10:10):

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

And despite what Satan wants us to believe, that God is a big meanie and he’s parsimonious with his blessings, it’s clear from Genesis and in God’s covenant promises to Abram that these blessings are to touch so many people they literally can’t be counted (sand of the seashore, stars in the sky, and dust of the earth). God is not miserly in spreading his blessings on earth, but this does not mean His blessings do not include adversity or in some cases suffering. Immediately after the fall, we realize all of God’s blessing is done in the face of a cosmic spiritual war to frustrate the devil’s plans. As we’re told, thorns and thistles. This means it will never be easy and we will encounter constant adversity and opposition. As I taught my kids as they were growing up and still as they are adults, life is constant friction, resistance at every step. But as muscles only grow stronger when there is resistance, so does our character and holiness.

Because Christ rose from the dead and was seated at the right hand of God “over all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is named,” (Eph. 1:21) he empowers us through the adversity and friction and resistance to flourish, in fact flourish in the face of and because of it. As I also taught and still teach my kids, we learn nothing from success. This is where the swords come in and how both are required if a nation is to experience true liberty.

The State, The Gospel, and the Sword
The two biblical swords have different purposes in a society, and we must not confuse the two, as many have done in the history of the church. First, Paul describes the sword utilized by the state in Romans 13:

³For rulers hold no terror for those who do right, but for those who do wrong. Do you want to be free from fear of the one in authority? Then do what is right and you will be commended. ⁴For the one in authority is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer.

We notice those who abide by the law, doing right, have nothing to fear from the state. Liberty can only be had within the confines of well-defined and just laws people willingly abide by. America was bequeathed the rule of law from almost 900 years of British history, which means in the words of Samuel Rutherford’s 1644 book, Lex Rex, law is king. Rutherford states, “A man commanding unjustly and ruling tyrannically has in that no power from God.” Thus, from Alfred the Great in the ninth century grew the common law, and the idea that even the king was under law, a radically new notion in the history of the world, a power British kings would not easily relinquish.

This was a specifically Christian idea that separated the Christian nation from the pagan nation. It’s one or the other, the law over the ruler, or the ruler over the law. A secular nation is a pagan nation, and thus man’s law not God’s law rules, and the result is tyranny, as we see in America and the West today. The answer is theonomy, however we define it, God’s law not man’s law as the ultimate authority over the state. This is the point at which Christian secularists get terribly confused, thinking theonomy means using the sword of the state to enforce certain beliefs. It does not! Freedom of conscience that came through European, primarily English, history gave us America’s First Amendment, the freedom of religion, and what we’ve come to know as the separation of church and state. The church institute, as Joe Boot calls it, does not exercise any coercive power over individuals, nor does the state outside of enforcing civil and criminal law.

We must understand this, and teach Christians and non-Christians alike, that we advance the Christian cause in society by words, first God’s words then ours. People and societies are transformed not by force, but by reason; as the Lord says through Isaiah, come let us reason together (Is. 1:18). Greg Bahnsen in his Theonomy in Christian Ethics puts it well:

Christ repudiates the use of the sword in spreading the gospel of the kingdom because this task belongs to His church, and the church and state are sperate (as the Old Testament taught and Christ confirmed). The civil magistrate may use the sword as the proper means of enforcement, but the church may not.

And you do not get more theonomic than the late great Greg Bahnsen. Yet most conservative Christians, like Larry Arnn, believe a Christian nation means using force to advance Christianity. The reason, again, is the persistent myth of secular neutrality. The Book of Revelation is also an excellent source for understanding this critical distinction. We notice in the following verses the sword Jesus uses to advance his kingdom.

In his right hand he held seven stars, and coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance. (Rev. 1:16)

“To the angel of the church in Pergamum write: These are the words of him who has the sharp, double-edged sword. (Rev. 2:12)

Repent therefore! Otherwise, I will soon come to you and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth. (Rev. 2:16)

Coming out of his mouth is a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. (Rev. 19:15)

The rest were killed with the sword coming out of the mouth of the rider on the horse. (Rev. 19:21)

From the moment the Apostle John wrote these words in the first century, the sword of the word of God has gone forth to conquer the nations and advance His kingdom of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit (Rom. 4:17).

Why Eschatology Matters

Nov 6, 2024 | Eschatology, Uncategorized

If you had asked me for most of my Christian life if eschatology mattered I would have said no, not at all. I was a committed eschatological Agnostic. It was a waste of time, speculation heaped upon speculation about verses in the Bible that seemed to have a variety of contradictory interpretations. I apologize for anyone who’s familiar with my story because I’ve repeated it here numerous times, but I must do so again because it is critical for making my case why eschatology matters and why so few Christians think it does. In fact, recently on Charlie Kirk’s show, which I often watch during the day as I work, he made this point. He said he’s heard Christians defend all the positions, pre, A, and post-mill, and said in so many words, it’s basically irrelevant and we just need get down to fighting the battles in front of us. Indeed we do, but how we see “end times,” an inaccurate description of what eschatology is about, determines not only what we do, but how we perceive the doing and the expectation of results, or the lack thereof.

Born again in the fall of 1978, exactly 46 years ago as I write these words, it was right in the middle of Last Days Madness, in the title of a book by Gary Demar. Hal Lindsey’s The Late Great Planet Earth, a massive best seller, was a common topic of conversation among Christians. The Middle East was in turmoil, and there was talk of antichrist and the immanent rapture. In fact, it was ubiquitous, virtually inescapable. Even though I’d read Lindsey’s book, I could no more defend the dispensational position than I could defend the hypostatic union (Jesus being both God and man for the theologically challenged), but I completely bought it. One day in the spring of 1982 just prior to my graduation from Arizona State University , I was standing out in front of my dorm, Best Hall, and prayed fervently that the rapture would happen so I wouldn’t have to graduate and figure out real life. No such luck.

As we all know, the rapture didn’t happen, and by the grace of God I’ve done a middling job figuring out life. In the immediate decades to come, the obsession with “end times” didn’t subside. The 90s was the decade of Left Behind in popular culture, and antichrist and rapture speculation only accelerated. The problem with such speculation, however, is if predictions and expectations don’t come to pass, people become jaded and skeptical. So most Christians in the year of our Lord 2024 are where I ended up not too many years after college, pan-millennialism, as in what Charlie Kirk basically believes; it’s not worth worrying about because it will all “pan out in the end.” Well, yes it will, but I must rebuke my younger self with being a cop-out, although it’s completely understandable. With all the “end times” hype proving untrue, newspaper eschatology as I’ve heard it called, disengaging is a perfectly reasonable response, but God won’t so easily let us off the hook.

Eschatology Matters Because God Says So
I will quote Paul in a verse familiar to all Evangelical Christians from 2 Timothy 3:16:

¹⁶All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, ¹⁷that the man of Godmay be complete, equipped for every good work.

This should settle the matter, but we’re stubborn little sinful creatures, so it won’t, but I’ll do my best to contribute to the settling. If what Paul says here is true, then all Scripture, including eschatology, is profitable for His people in these ways, and my disregarding it for a large portion of my Christian life is basically telling God that it’s not. That’s not good. So if we can agree on this, let’s first look at what eschatology is and why it is profitable.

Eschatology comes from the Greek word ἔσχατος (éskhatos) meaning last, and ology means study, so it’s the study of last things, not “end times.” And although most pastors don’t preach with an eye to “last things,” it’s all over Scripture, and not just in the most obvious places. Those would be Revelation, Portions of the synoptic gospels where Jesus speaks to the destruction of the temple, Daniel, portions of Ezekiel and other prophets. The other passages, while not so apparent, are Messianic in nature. For example, take this passage in Genesis 49 that is clearly Messianic when Jacob is blessing his sons, and he gets to Judah. I won’t quote the whole thing, but just one verse in the middle:

¹⁰The scepter will not depart from Judah,
nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet,
until he to whom it belongsshall come
and the obedience of the nations shall be his.

Nobody questions whether this applies to the Messiah, even Jews, but for Christians the question is whether Jesus started accomplishing this at his first coming, or will only accomplish it at his second.

After I embraced postmillennialism, I realized that for my entire Christian life, at that point almost 44 years, I’d read every single Messianic passage in the Old Testament as being fulfilled in Christ’s second advent. Which proves the premise of this piece, that eschatology matters. My assumptions about “end times,” starting with the dispensationalism I was born again into in 1978, very much mattered in how I interpreted Scripture. If you’ve ever been to a doctor’s office where you sit on the exam table and they take out a hammer and tap on the front of your knee, you’ll know where the saying “knee jerk” got its meaning. That was me: Messianic text, knee jerk, second coming. I could write for days giving you examples, but a few will have to do. Here are two verses from Psalm 2:

⁷I will proclaim the Lord’s decree:

He said to me, “You are my son;
today I have become your father.
⁸Ask me,
and I will make the nations your inheritance,
the ends of the earth your possession.
⁹You will break them with a rod of iron
you will dash them to pieces like pottery.”

With my dispensational, pan-mill, or A-mill assumptions, of course this will only happen when Christ returns. Isn’t it obvious? The earth’s a hellhole, and Satan obviously has the upper hand “down here.” Well, that’s one way to look at it, but are those assumptions justified? Or take these verses from Psalm 110:

⁵The Lord is at your right hand;
he will crush kings on the day of his wrath.
⁶He will judge the nations, heaping up the dead
and crushing the rulers of the whole earth.
⁷He will drink from a brook along the way,
and so he will lift his head high.

This certainly looked to me like it could only be true of the day of Jesus’ return when he declares the final victory over all his enemies, but the context of the Psalm is clearly not for the final consummation of all things. And Peter uses both these Psalms in Acts 2 and 4 as being fulfilled at Christ’s first coming with his resurrection and ascension to the right hand of God as the currently reigning Messiah. The Apostles did not see Christ’s Messianic reign for the spiritual life of Christians, but for all of reality. Paul says as much in Ephesians 1 when he declares of Christ that God,

seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come.

I love the way Paul says this as if Christ’s complete and total rule over all things is in this present age is obvious, and then has to add if anyone is unsure, also in the age to come.

Eschatology Matters Because Christ Changed the Course of History
Which brings us to one of the major problems with the church in the modern age: it has no vision of history. This is the direct result of Pietism, which narrows the faith down to personal salvation. In my early born-again years, I believed the extent of the gospel was about our going to heaven when we die and our own personal holiness. I hate to put it this way, but this completely trivializes the Christian faith. The Apostle Paul has a cosmic vision of the faith as we learn from 2 Corinthians 5:17:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!

This translation from the NIV is spot on. The subject isn’t so much the salvation of an individual, which of course is included, but the entirety of the created order! When Christ was resurrected from the dead, death itself was put on notice; you are no longer calling the shots! At the very moment he escaped the clutches of death, history was forever changed, a literal U-turn in all things diametrically opposed to the fall and curse of sin.

History now became the outworking of the story of what Paul in this passage calls the “ministry of reconciliation,” that God in Christ was reconciling the world to Himself. Paul uses the Greek word cosmos, meaning the entire ordered system of the universe as God created it. And this reconciling of it all, every square inch, every single thing, started when Christ rose from the dead. Fifty days later he ascended to the right hand of God, the place of ultimate authority in this created order, visible and invisible, as we saw in Ephesians 1. This, brothers and sisters, is not a recipe for defeat or failure! And God forbid we should think, like I did for most of my Christian life, that real victory was only meant for when Christ returned to earth for a second time. In fact, in 2 Corinthians 2:14 Paul declares this ministry of victory:

¹⁴But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. ¹⁵For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing,

That smells like winning! And everyone smells it, lost and saved. And who doesn’t want to be on the winning team!

We also know not every minute of every game looks the same, so it may appear for the moment that we are on the losing side, but we know who wins in the end! Not every battle in a war appears the same to the participant, but there can only be one victor. Every game, though, has a palpable direction, a kind of momentum everyone can feel, and we’re on the side of the one who conquered death. Which brings up the issue at hand. Is this victory only for the end? Or is victory intended by God through Christ for here and now? Is this reconciling happening in a substantive way in history, or are our reconciling efforts basically futile until Christ returns? How we answer these questions proves eschatology matters. Here’s Paul’s answer in I Corinthians 15:

²⁵For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. ²⁶The last enemy to be destroyed is death. ²⁷For “God has put all things in subjection under his feet.”

There are two phrases here that function in time, “until he has put,” and “The last enemy to be destroyed.” That means going from A, the Asension, to Z, Christ’s second coming, we don’t skip B to Y, and every letter in between, lower and upper case. This is the “triumphal procession” Paul is talking about. I love the extended meaning of procession from Strong’s:

properly, to display triumph openly; publicly exalting the victor who leads a victory-procession – and putting the conquered on display (exhibition, as “totally defeated”).

This is what Jesus accomplished on the cross and resurrection. Satan doesn’t have the upper hand “down here,” although sometimes it looks like it when we live by sight and not by faith. Paul says elsewhere (Col. 2:15) that Christ:

having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.

Eschatology Matters Because of the Teleology of History
History is going somewhere. There is a purpose, a telos, or end goal to which it is pointing and unfolding. As Christians we believe God providentially ordains all things toward his perfect ends. What are those ends? We learn these from God’s promises to Abram, that through his offspring all the nations of the earth would be blessed. From that moment, what we call redemptive history commenced and zigged and zagged for 2000 years to the fulfilment of God’s covenant promise, which is to “bless the nations.” When we talk about eschatology, or “last things,” those started at Christ’s first coming. The blessings from what he accomplished in conquering sin by paying the ultimate price for it, would now flow, not only to individuals, but through them to the entire created order. For God so loved the cosmos that whosoever believes tells us that the salvation of the individual is ultimately connected with God’s created order. This is massively different than being saved to go to heaven when we die.

The Apostles realized this, but they could never have imagined in a “mere” 300 years Christianity would become the official religion of the Roman Empire. And when Constantine the Great converted, he began the process of changing the Empire from bloodthirsty to blessing. He abolished crucifixion in 337 specifically because of Christ, and he started the slow process of gladiatorial contests to the death being completely outlawed within the next 150 years. We can see that an empire or nation ruled by Christ is completely different than one ruled by Pagans. There wasn’t a Christian leader or layman who could conceive of a Christianity that didn’t affect the conduct of how a nation was ruled or the culture of its people. They wouldn’t even have known what we were talking about if we said Christianity is mainly about going to heaven when we die and personal holiness. It wasn’t until the 19^th century, some 1800 years after the resurrection that this radical narrowing of the faith became common place.

With Pietism the Christian church eventually lost the idea of the purpose of Christ’s unfolding of his kingdom rule on earth. We substituted the Four Spiritual Laws for Thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, not on earth after Christ returns, but on earth here, now. We went from blessing nations corporately to merely blessing individuals within nations. In the West we went from Christendom to secularism, to acknowledging God’s law and Christ’s kingship over the nations, to making Christianity a personal preference, one among many in a religiously pluralistic society. A large number of Christians, unfortunately the majority it seems, are okay with this because eschatology matters. For them the telos of God’s purposes in salvation are, like I used to believe, ultimately only for the end of time and the consummation of all things. That was my view of “end times,” so I was a defeatist and generally pessimistic. I even made fun of my younger idealist self for thinking I could actually “change the world.”

By contrast, my new postmillennial self understands the purpose of God in Christ is exactly that, to change the world! If we’re new creations, and part of a church of new creations against which the gates of hall shall not prevail, then the very purpose of our corporate lives is to change the world! Every day we get up, we are light pushing back darkness, fighting the fall and the curse of sin with righteousness, bringing order out of chaos, beauty out of ugliness, truth from lies, peace from conflict, love from hate. We all know who wins in the end, but why do we believe evil is destined to win here, now? Eschatology. Scripture doesn’t teach us things will get increasingly worse until Christ comes back to save the day, but if we do believe that it will affect our teleology of history. Rather, Scripture teaches us Christ’s reign and victory over sin’s effects are for this world. Often mustard seed slow, they are yet relentless and inevitable, until the last enemy, death is destroyed forever.

« Older Entries

Response Post: Kim Riddlebarger Against the Eschatological Optimism/Pessimism Paradigm

Response Post: Mike Horton and Culturally Irrelevant Christianity

What Our Citizenship is in Heaven Really Means

Eschatological Assumptions and AD70

Societal Transformation by the Sword of the Spirit

Why Eschatology Matters

Categories

Recent Comments

Recent Posts

Archives