Everyone's got an opinion.  Most people have one for every issue.  Increasingly, we struggle to differentiate between our opinions and objective truth.  Nowhere is this more glaringly obvious than in the growing acceptance of the phrase, “my truth,” as if it not only makes sense, but is somehow nobler and more authentic than the alternative.  If my truth differs from your truth, then at least one of us is at odds with reality, which doesn’t take either of our opinions into consideration!

Yet members of our society usually assume that their opinion is the correct one, and have nothing but derision for any who disagree.  Look at the state of our politics, for abundant examples.  It’s also apparent in the absurd level of fragmentation in practically every religious movement today, so that it’s a fool’s errand to count all of the different flavors of Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, and Christianity.  By the time you finish tallying them up, the number will have increased noticeably over what it was when you began!  Disagreements lead to divisions, and both sides of each division are usually willing to reconcile, just as soon as the other side admits they were totally wrong about everything, and it was all their fault.  For a more mundane demonstration, just listen to the low-level employees at most businesses discussing how things really work, when the boss isn’t around.  The boss probably has a very different opinion.  Which side is right?  Is either?

We’re inclined to pass judgment about everything, at every opportunity.  Jesus warns us, “Judge not, that you be not judged” (Mt 7.1).  On the other hand, he tells us to “judge with right judgment” (Jn 7.24).  Which is it?  Well, the prohibition was followed with an assumption that we will, in fact, judge: “For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you” (Mt 7.2).  He’s not saying that every act of judgment is a sin—he’s warning us that God will take our standard of judgment into account, and throw it right back at us.  “Judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment” (Ja 2.13).  We’re not going to make it through life without passing a few judgments, but we’d better be careful to use God’s standards, not our own—to judge with “right judgment.”  How does God’s judgment look?

Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things. We know that the judgment of God rightly falls on those who practice such things. Do you suppose, O man—you who judge those who practice such things and yet do them yourself—that you will escape the judgment of God? Or do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God's kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? But because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath when God's righteous judgment will be revealed. (Romans 2.1-5)

Now we’ve got another problem.  It’s easy to protest: “I condemn murderers, and I’ve never murdered anyone!  I condemn adulterers, and I’ve never committed adultery!  I condemn those who swear falsely, and I’ve never done that, either!”  Jesus covered all of those, and more, saying:

“You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment...” (Matthew 5.21-22)

And again:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” (Matthew 5.27-28)

And finally: 

“Again you have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but shall perform to the Lord what you have sworn.’ But I say to you, Do not take an oath at all...” (Matthew 5.33-34)

From our own perspective, we sure seemed innocent; but God sees the heart, and in our hearts we have done “the very same things” we judge in others.  God’s wrath is stored up for us.  But that’s not the whole story.  The only man who didn’t deserve God’s wrath already paid the penalty for the sins the rest of us have committed.  Mercy triumphs over judgment, and he offers it to all who will to take it.  In light of this, we should be a little more grateful to him for shielding us from the consequences of our sin.  Be a little less harsh and certain of the judgments we pass on others, and more merciful, regardless of what they deserve.  Consider withholding judgment more often, and busy yourself encouraging repentance and salvation, not perfect earthly justice.  And finally, we should be a little more concerned with cleaning up our own hearts and behaviors.

“Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other.” (Luke 18.10-14)

Be the tax collector, not the Pharisee.

Jeremy Nettles

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. (Revelation 21.1)

Here is another among many confusing statements in the book of Revelation, subject to several different interpretations.  Most of them rely to some degree on the meaning of the “thousand years” in the previous chapter, and some involve a very sophisticated set of expectations built on the language of many prophecies in the Old and New Testament alike.  We can simplify all of this considerably, by focusing just on the topic at hand, and tracing the new heaven and new earth through the Bible.

Revelation is not the only place we find this phrase in the New Testament.  2 Peter 3 describes the destruction of the earth and heavens, and then says, “But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells” (2 Peter 3.13).  The same elements as in Revelation appear here, along with the indication that this is in line with God’s promise.  If Peter was already able to say we await the fulfillment, it’s clear that the promise had already been announced to his people.  But where, and when?  

In the final two chapters of Isaiah, God lists the sins of his people Israel, and passes judgment.  He promises that the punishment will be followed by restoration of the faithful remnant, saying, “my servants shall eat, but you shall be hungry,” and many more such things (v13ff).  Then, he explains how this will occur: “behold, I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind” (v17).  We could interpret this as pertaining to something still to come in the distant future, but as with nearly everything in Isaiah, there’s an appropriate fulfillment of the prophecy within a reasonable period after Isaiah prophesied in the 8th century BC.  The people of Judah were soon to go into exile, in punishment for their sins.  Then, a remnant would return and rebuild a Jewish kingdom in their ancestral lands, with God’s help.  It remains a mere shadow of its former glory, and so it’s a rather underwhelming fulfillment, but nevertheless, there it is.

But it doesn’t stop there.  In chapter 66, God describes bringing his people together from the corners of the earth, and opening up the priesthood to them.
“For as the new heavens and the new earth that I make shall remain before me, says the Lord, so shall your offspring and your name remain. From new moon to new moon, and from Sabbath to Sabbath, all flesh shall come to worship before me, declares the Lord. And they shall go out and look on the dead bodies of the men who have rebelled against me. For their worm shall not die, their fire shall not be quenched, and they shall be an abhorrence to all flesh.” (Isaiah 66.22-24)

That’s the end of the book, and Jesus quotes the last verse in Mark 9.48, explicitly describing hell in the final judgment.  Sure, this could be construed as simply a prediction of the restoration of Israel’s nationhood, but by this point it’s pretty clear that there’s more to this.  Perhaps the “brothers” mentioned in verse 20 aren’t brothers in the sense of sharing a common physical ancestry, so much as brothers because of a shared spiritual heritage, as Paul describes in Galatians 3.7, “it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham.”  Perhaps the eternal priesthood isn’t the one established by Moses, but the one established by Christ.  Perhaps the coming judgment isn’t confined to suffering and death in this life, but an eternal consequence.  If that’s the case, then the new heavens and new earth aren’t just a disappointing fulfillment of a grandiose promise, but reason to expect something far greater in the age of Christ.  Maybe it’s about a reinvented earth, to be Jesus’ kingdom while the Father reigns in heaven; maybe we’d remain in this creation as Christ’s physical, earthly kingdom, forever.  That’s the route some interpreters have gone.  But we haven’t traced this idea all the way back to its source, yet.

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Ge 1.1).  These are the original new heavens and new earth.  From the very start, God and his servants have described the entirety of his physical creation by the terms, heaven and earth.  We tend to think of heaven as God’s home, and often that’s how the term is used.  But here in Genesis 1, as it very often does, it just means the sky.  “The heavens and the earth” is just a straightforward way of expressing the entirety of creation.  What God is promising, when he says he’ll create new heavens and a new earth, is a new creation.

There are shades of this in the restoration of Israel’s nationhood; there’s a much greater fulfillment in the spiritual kingdom established by Christ; and we still look forward to the greatest fulfillment of all, a new creation in which we may dwell with God forever after this vain world is dead and gone.  We’ve messed this creation up, with our sin.  But Jesus has redeemed the creation through his perfect self-sacrifice, and begun to re-create his chosen people, the church, as we were originally intended to be: innocent and faithful, walking with God.  In the church, we have the firstfruits of this new creation, but we’re still stuck living in the tainted, fallen world.  We await a final transformation, and the final re-creation, when Christ returns.  Be ready.  Be one of his people.  Be remade in Christ’s image.

Jeremy Nettles

For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them... (Romans 2.14-15)

In this passage, Paul points out that even the Gentiles throughout the ages, who did not have access to “the oracles of God,” as he calls them in verse 2 of the next chapter, still basically adhered to the same moral code of conduct as the one God gave to the Israelites.  The ritual stuff concerning the priesthood and tabernacle/temple worship wasn’t exactly mirrored among the widely dispersed peoples of the earth, but it was pretty much accepted that murder, theft, adultery, fraud, and other such things were to be avoided, and punished.  Individuals may disagree and engage in all of these sins and more, but broadly speaking, societies accept God’s basic law by nature, and when a society fails to uphold it, it implodes, often with the aid of a foreign invader seizing the opportunity to expand its power.

Why is this?  Even among people who didn’t recognize the Lord God Almighty, there was an assumption that some divine order existed, and that some things were right and others wrong.  As Paul says in the passage quoted above, “the work of the law is written on their hearts.”  This law is so obvious that even idolatrous people will attribute their morals to the commandments of whatever god they worship; but what about those who simply reject the idea of God altogether?  There are many attempts from the atheist perspective to uphold the basic moral code, but if you ask “why?” at each step, you quickly reach a point where there is no coherent atheistic answer.  If there’s no God to tell us what to do, then right and wrong mean about as much to us as they do to a hyena in the Serengeti.  

Yet, most people aren’t hung up on this, because they’re perfectly happy to admit that there is a God.  As Paul says earlier in the letter,
For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. (Romans 1.19-20)

He’s not the first to make this observation.  Another example is found in Psalm 19, which begins, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.”  Since his existence is self-evident, it’s easy to account for morality by pointing to God.  But of course, he didn’t only write laws on hearts—sometimes, he simply tells people what he expects of them.

In establishing God’s covenant with Abraham, he tells him: “I am God Almighty; walk before me and be blameless” (Ge 17.1).  To be fair, God gives him other instructions from time to time, but over the course of this decades-long relationship, we don’t see a comprehensive law passed from God to Abraham, just this very basic appeal to standard moral uprightness: “be blameless.”  In fact, even after giving an extremely detailed set of rules to the Israelites, he gives them a similar, although slightly more detailed summary of his expectations, asking in Micah 6.8, “what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”  This rhetorical question is presented as a simpler and easier alternative to the overboard and even immoral sacrificial offerings his people consider bringing in order to seek God’s favor.  It’s as if he’s telling them, “look guys, this isn’t that complicated.”

Of course, figuring out the details in any given circumstances will be more difficult—for example, how do we determine what is just, in a given case?  Fortunately, God has given us a lot of commentary on these general principles, found throughout the rest of the Bible.  But what God was telling the Israelites through Micah, and what he was telling Abraham, and what he silently has told all of mankind forever, is simple: focus on justice, mercy, humility, blamelessness, love for God and neighbor.  

Yes, there are fine details to work out, and some counterintuitive conclusions and obligations.  But in general, if we’ll just focus on living our lives in accordance with these basic principles, we’ll have God’s moral expectations of us pretty much under control.  These rules are so obvious that even the pagans—sinful as they were—could easily recognize that they were real, and right.  There’s not much overt paganism today, but it is just as astonishing that so many atheists believe in a moral law, although not the lawgiver.  

None of this is enough to secure salvation for ourselves, of course.  Jesus is the only way, and his atoning sacrifice is the only reason that we can escape the eternal punishment we deserve, and be sent to heaven, instead.  But Jesus’ expectations of how his followers are to behave in their fleshly lives aren’t all that different from his expectations before the new and living way was opened for us.  This is what Jeremiah prophesied centuries beforehand: 
For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people.
(Jeremiah 31.33)

Jeremy Nettles

...our beloved brother Paul also wrote to you according to the wisdom given him, as he does in all his letters when he speaks in them of these matters. There are some things in them that are hard to understand, which the ignorant and unstable twist to their own destruction, as they do the other Scriptures. You therefore, beloved, knowing this beforehand, take care that you are not carried away with the error of lawless people and lose your own stability. (2 Peter 3.15-17)

After 2,000 years, we should not be surprised that there are many divisions, factions, sects, or denominations all claiming to be “the Church.”  Most of these arose as a result of doctrinal disagreements.  Either a teaching was not well-formed or articulated, leading to confusion and conflict, or (more often) someone did what Peter was warning against in the passage above—came up with his own idea, presented it as the truth backed by a mishandling of the Scriptures, and thus led others astray.  

The New Testament is full of warnings this sort of thing would happen.  In addition to the passage in 2 Peter 3 quoted above, Paul spends the first four chapters of 1 Corinthians addressing just such a problem springing up already in the church at Corinth.  He also predicts a departure from the faith in 1 Timothy 4, and warns against wolves in sheep’s clothing in Acts 20, as did Jesus himself in Matthew 7.  2 Peter 2 predicts that false prophets will preach heresies, and Jude points out that it’s already happening toward the late 1st century.

After that, a stroll through later church history scares up a long list of terms for such divisions in the church: Valentinianism, dualism, adoptionism, doceticism, trinitarianism, antinomianism, Montanism, Arianism, Marcionism, Arminianism, Pelagianism, catholicism, Calvinism, protestantism, and many, many more.  Half of these have names that roughly describe the doctrine in question (in Greek or Latin), but the other half are tied instead to an individual’s name.  Paul warned us about this: 

For when one says, “I follow Paul,” and another, “I follow Apollos,” are you not being merely human?  What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. (1 Corinthians 3.4-5)

Today, when Christians study, ponder, and discuss spiritual matters—as well they should!—they’ll often reach a conclusion, or at least entertain a notion, tied to one of these -isms debated and bickered over in centuries past.  Often, someone with a smug disposition will see the connection and assign the idea its accepted label: “oh, that’s Arianism.”  This is usually intended to stop the discussion, on the grounds that this heresy was debunked long ago, and is now off limits.  Most of the time it is, in fact, a false doctrine; but shouldn’t we address the substance of the argument, demonstrating from the Scriptures why it is false?  And if we can’t do that, do we have any business dismissing it on the basis of its name?

On the other side, and even more alarming is that so many people are quite happy to label themselves by such terms—a Baptist, a Lutheran, an Episcopalian, a Presbyterian, a Methodist, a Pentecostal, an Anabaptist, and so on.  Sure this is a convenient way to categorize the ridiculous variety of beliefs, doctrines, and practices; but isn’t it also a tacit admission to following the teachings of someone other than Christ?

Why do people do this?  And why is there so much more variety in the western world, than anywhere else?  The situation is quite similar to what Paul found at Athens: “the city was full of idols” (Ac 17.16).  In his speech, he generously calls the people of Athens “very religious” (v22), but the reason behind that characterization is that the city was a melting pot of cultures and ideas, and as each new religious idea entered the scene, it found a handful of people with whom it resonated, and so in the absence of real problems, or anything of tangible value to do, the people of this washed-up, has-been, decaying former military, economic, and cultural superpower reveled in their open-mindedness.  As Luke tells us, “all the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there would spend their time in nothing except telling or hearing something new” (Ac 17.21).  Over the centuries, our society has followed Athens’ example, and has gutted the radical teachings of Christ, then parceled them out according to philosophical preference.  There is little regard for truth or authority, and much for subjective feeling and novelty.

It all comes down to the rebuke Jesus gave to the Pharisees—one of the competing philosophical factions at the time: 

“Well did Isaiah prophesy of you hypocrites, as it is written, ‘This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.’” (Mark 7.6-7)

Let the labels fall where they may; and “Let God be true though every one were a liar” (Ro 3.3).  The true Christian isn’t too concerned with the teachings of Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, John Calvin, Jacobus Arminius, or Alexander Campbell.  These men all said good and true things, as well as bad and false things.  They were fallible men (some more fallible than others).  Do you know who’s not fallible?  Jesus.  As the voice from heaven told Peter, James, and John: “listen to him” (Mt 17.5).  Let us be followers of Christ.

Jeremy Nettles

But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us). (Matthew 1.20-23)

Surely there is no Old Testament prophecy more clearly explained in the New, or more widely known by Christians today.  These lines are cherished and repeated just about every time Jesus’ birth is discussed.  But how much attention is given to the text in which they appear, the seventh chapter of Isaiah?

At the source, we find a surprisingly earthly setting for the first time these words were spoken.  The king of Judah, Ahaz, is concerned about the national defense, since the kings of Israel and Syria to the North have joined forces to attack Jerusalem.  God has sent Isaiah the prophet to tell Ahaz, “do not fear, and do not let your heart be faint because of these two smoldering stumps of firebrands” (Isaiah 7.4).  God says of Syria’s and Israel’s plan, “It shall not stand, and it shall not come to pass” (Is 7.7).  He offers a sign to assure him these words are from God.  Ahaz politely refuses, but God insists:

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel. He shall eat curds and honey when he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. For before the boy knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land whose two kings you dread will be deserted. (Isaiah 7.14-16)

Well, that was weird.  There’s our prophecy, which tradition, common sense, and the Gospel of Matthew tell us is about Jesus, and yet it’s difficult to make sense of it in context.  God seems to go from talking about a very simple physical concern on the part of the king of Judah, to making spiritual predictions about the eternal salvation of mankind through the Messiah, and back again, nearly giving us whiplash.

In fact, it’s worse than that.  Let’s look more closely at verse 16: “For before the boy knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land whose two kings you dread will be deserted.”  Since these events occurred around the year 735 BC, and Jesus wasn’t born for more than seven centuries afterward, what kind of lame and useless “sign” is this for Ahaz?  God is trying to give him confidence to trust one prediction…by making another prediction that no one involved can possibly live to see fulfilled?  How is this helpful? 

It isn’t; but that’s not what God intended Ahaz to get out of this prophecy.  Let’s pretend, for a while, that we don't know about Jesus yet, and Matthew hasn’t told us the interpretation of this prophecy.  Now, it begins to fall into place.  God is addressing the simple, earthly situation right in front of the prophet and king.  The king struggles to believe his kingdom can withstand the attack from the north, and God reassures him through a more readily visible sign: a young woman becoming pregnant in the near future as predicted, and giving her son the extremely appropriate Hebrew name, “God is with us,” or Immanuel.  The promise is that, before this child is old enough to know right from wrong—within the first few years of his life—the threat from Syria and Israel will fizzle out to nothing, and the nation of Judah will have plenty to eat, even luxury foods like curds and honey.

That’s something Ahaz can actually observe: a young woman turning up pregnant just after Isaiah said it would happen.  Then, at each step along the way, when the sign is confirmed the king may have greater and greater confidence in God’s promise to protect Jerusalem from this attack.  It’s not a virgin birth in this case, but a maiden who would not be expected to conceive in the near future, hence the impact of the sign.

But now we must drop the pretense—we do know about Jesus, and the virgin birth, and Matthew’s explicit interpretation of this prophecy in reference to Christ.  So what?  Is God not smart enough, or complex enough, or a good enough organizer to give a dual-purpose prophecy?  Why should that surprise us?  He did it with the promises he gave Abraham in Genesis 12, which were fulfilled in part through the nation of Israel, but in fuller measure through the church.  He also did it with the prediction that after Moses’ death God would raise up a prophet like him (De 18.15), which was fulfilled in part through Joshua and the prophetic institution that continued throughout Israel’s history, but in fuller measure though Christ.  He did it with the covenant he established with David, saying that his son would “build a house for my name” (2Sa 7.13).  This saw its first, and smaller fulfillment in David’s son Solomon, but a far greater fulfillment in the Son of David who built the church.

Rather than sowing confusion about what prophecies must mean or couldn’t possibly mean, we should first acknowledge that God is better at this than we are, and open our minds to consider the likelihood that he’s got bigger and better things in mind than we’d have ever imagined.  God is great!  Let’s honor and revere him, giving thanks for his promises and watching for their fulfillment always.

Jeremy Nettles