The Gospel Coalition

Deuteronomy 7; Psalm 90; Isaiah 35; Revelation 5

THE SETTING OF REVELATION 4 gives way to the drama of Revelation 5. In the right hand, the hand of power, “of him who sat on the throne”—the transcendent, awesome God described in chapter 4—there is “a scroll with writing on both sides.” This scroll contains all of God’s purposes for justice, judgment, and blessing. Most people wrote on only one side of a scroll, the side with the horizontal strips of papyrus. Those who wrote on both sides were perhaps too poor to afford another blank scroll—or, as in this case, they had a great deal to say and wanted it to remain within the confines of one scroll. So this scroll in the hand of the Almighty embraces the fullness of God’s purposes for judgment and blessing—that is why it has writing on both sides. Yet the scroll is sealed: this means that the purposes of God recorded in this scroll will not be enacted until the seals are broken.

The angel’s dramatic question (Rev. 5:2) is fundamental to all religion: Who is the agent who has attributes so rich, life so pure, capacities so unexcelled, as to be able to approach this God—the God before whom even the highest order of angels hide their faces—and to take the scroll from his right hand and bring to fruition all of God’s purposes? When no one is found who is worthy, John weeps and weeps (Rev. 5:3–4). His tears stem not from frustration at being unable to see into the future, but from his awareness that, in the symbolism of this vision, God’s purposes will never be carried out. There will be no justice in the universe, and no salvation. This is the despair of concluding that history is meaningless, that God is dead.

But an interpreting elder consoles John (Rev. 5:5). The Lion of the tribe of Judah has “prevailed” (Rev. 5:5, KJV) to open the scroll: the verb suggests a horrendous struggle, but the Lion has won. This Lion is the king of the Davidic line. So John looks up and sees—a Lamb. The Lion is announced, and what John sees is a Lamb. This is not a separate animal. Apocalyptic literature delights in mixed metaphors. Here the Lion is the Lamb—at that, a slaughtered, sacrificial lamb, yet one with a perfection of kingly power (the seven horns). Here is the Messiah, the utmost in self-giving, the utmost in power, emerging from the very center of the throne. He alone brings to pass all of God’s purposes. Small wonder that the entire universe explodes with a new song, the song of redemption (Rev. 5:9–14). The triumph of the Lord God and of the Lamb is what stands behind the transformation of Isaiah 35.

Deuteronomy 6; Psalm 89; Isaiah 34; Revelation 4

REVELATION 4 IS TO REVELATION 5 what a setting is to a drama. Revelation 4 is a description, in apocalyptic symbolism, of the throne room of Almighty God; Revelation 5 plays out a drama in that setting.

John identifies the voice he hears as the voice he first heard speaking to him like a trumpet (Rev. 4:1)—the voice of the exalted Lord Jesus (Rev. 1:10–16). John is called up through an open door into heaven to see the elements of the spectacular vision that unfolds in the ensuing verses. Immediately he is “in the Spirit” (Rev. 4:2)—perhaps some Spirit-imparted trance or vision, or perhaps, like Paul (2 Cor. 12:1–10), John does not really know the nature of his movement. But what he sees is clear enough:

(a) John sees the centrality and ineffable majesty of the Almighty (Rev. 4:2b–3). He does not let his readers forget that above all temporal thrones, some of them responsible for appalling persecution, stands the ultimate throne, the throne of God. He describes the blazing glory of light refracting over precious gems, like the crown jewels in the Tower of London. One cannot come away from this vision and draw God. This dazzling, fiery beauty commands awe but permits no replicas (cf. Ezek. 1:28).

(b) John sees the divine throne enhanced by spectacular heavenly beings (Rev. 4:4). Although it is possible to take the “elders” as representing believers from both old and new covenants, it is better to take them as a high order of angels. They offer the prayers of God’s saints to God (Rev. 5:8), an angelic function (Rev. 8:3). Believers sing a new song that the elders cannot sing (Rev. 14:3). In the visions of Revelation 7:9–11 and 19:1–4 the elders are found in concentric circles between angels and the four living creatures (the highest order of angelic beings). An elder frequently interprets what is going on (e.g., Rev. 5:5)—a common angelic function in apocalyptic literature. Here they enhance the throne and participate in worship.

(c) John sees the holy separateness of the Almighty. That is the point of the three vignettes in Revelation 4:5–6a. The massive storm reminds the reader of Sinai (Ex. 19:16). The sea serves as a symbol for the entire fallen order; that is why in the new heaven and the new earth there is no more sea (Rev. 21:1). John is distanced from the Almighty by these and related phenomena.

(d) John sees the four living creatures, described in terms drawn from Isaiah 6 and Ezekiel 1 and 10. They are the highest angelic beings, orchestrating the praise of the Almighty and reflecting his transcendent administration (Rev. 4:6b–11). God alone is to be worshiped, for he alone is the Creator (Rev. 4:11), and all other authority derives from his (Rev. 4:10).

Deuteronomy 5; Psalm 88; Isaiah 33; Revelation 3

IF THE LORD RULES, ONE OF THE things he does is destroy the enemies of his people. In Isaiah 33, the opening “Woe” is now pronounced, not against the erring people of God (as in Isa. 28:1; 29:1, 15; 30:1; 31:1), but against the “destroyer,” the Assyrian horde. They are the “traitor” (Isa. 33:1), doubtless because they accepted the extortionate tribute (see yesterday’s meditation) and then attacked anyway. But the betrayer will be betrayed (Isa. 33:1); probably this refers to the fact that Sennacherib, after returning home, was assassinated by his own sons (Isa. 37:38).

At this juncture the people of God cry out for his help: “O LORD, be gracious to us; we long for you” (Isa. 33:2)—an overdue reversal of the callousness they displayed in chapters 29–30. After the extraordinary death of almost two hundred thousand Assyrian troops in 701 B.C., the citizens of Jerusalem were able to leave the city and strip the slain army of vast quantities of plunder (Isa. 33:4; 37:36).

Once again, the historical picture is cast in terms that anticipate the final judgment of the “nations” (Isa. 33:4—plural!) and the ultimate blessedness of Zion (Isa. 33:5–6; cf. Isa. 33:17–24). What will prevail is “justice and righteousness” (Isa. 33:5). God himself “will be the sure foundation” for such times, “a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge; the fear of the LORD is the key to this treasure” (Isa. 33:6)—showing how the prophetic literature of the Old Testament overlaps with the Wisdom Literature (cf. Prov. 1:7).

The rest of Isaiah 33 expands on these themes. The lament of Isaiah 33:7–9 demonstrates that the strategies of the rulers and diplomats had to fail before the authorities turned to the Lord in desperation. But that is when God arises (Isa. 33:10). God himself is able to consume the chaff. Even the enemies “who are far away” (Isa. 33:13) hear what God has done. But if God is the sort of God who destroys sinners, will not the sinners in Zion likewise be consumed (Isa. 33:14)? “Who of us can dwell with the consuming fire? Who of us can dwell with everlasting burning?” (Isa. 33:14). That is why the promise of the Lord’s deliverance is always simultaneously a massive call to repentance (Isa. 33:15–16).

The closing verses (Isa. 33:17–24) offer a retrospective, a time to reflect on the destruction of all who cherish evil. Such judgment generates a time of peace and stability (Isa. 33:20). But above all, it is a time of sheer God-centeredness. “Your eyes will see the king in his beauty” (Isa. 33:17); “the LORD will be our Mighty One” (Isa. 33:21); for “the LORD is our judge, the LORD is our lawgiver, the LORD is our king; it is he who will save us” (Isa. 33:22).

Deuteronomy 4; Psalms 86–87; Isaiah 32; Revelation 2

IF ISAIAH 30–31 EXPOSE THE PROBLEM and the dangers of relying on Egypt, Isaiah 32–33 provide the alternative: a good government led by a righteous King. Although Isaiah expects such government to dawn only in the future (e.g., Isa. 32:1, 15–16; 33:5–6, 17–22), his stance is not wholly eschatological: he is addressing the crisis of his own day, a day of complacency (Isa. 32:9–11), when the diplomats have failed and the leaders are desperate (Isa. 33:7–8), a day when the arrogant Assyrians, “those people of an obscure speech” (Isa. 33:19), are still in the land. Historically, this probably refers to King Hezekiah’s futile attempt to buy off Sennacherib with extraordinary tribute (2 Kings 18:13–16). But Sennacherib is not appeased. His envoys “with their strange, incomprehensible tongue” (Isa. 33:19) demand that Hezekiah throw open the gates of Jerusalem. When Hezekiah refuses, the siege begins. Now the people of Jerusalem can see the consequences of a government that follows nothing but the empty futility of merely human wisdom. Isaiah offers the only alternative: the kingship of God. Happily, Hezekiah seizes this alternative in the nick of time (2 Kings 19:14–19). But what Isaiah looks for is the time when God’s kingship is fully accepted by people and rulers alike.

Isaiah 32, then, begins this vision by showing what such divine government looks like, what it would produce (Isa. 32:1–8). The identity of this king who reigns in righteousness (Isa. 32:1) is not as clear as in Isaiah 11:1–9 (where he is the Messiah) or as in Isaiah 33:22 (where he is the LORD). From the Christian’s perspective, there is no tension in these dual claims: the ultimate King is simultaneously the Anointed One from the line of David and the living God (as in Isa. 9 and Ezek. 34). Here (Isa. 32), the focus is less on the king’s identity than on his passion for righteousness. The transformation of the realm is so complete that “the eyes of those who see will no longer be closed, and the ears of those who hear will listen” (Isa. 32:3)—the reverse of Isaiah 6:9–10.

But at this juncture there is no way to reach such glory except through judgment. Only a year will slip by before a crushing destruction of the harvest (Isa. 32:10)—probably when Sennacherib moves in his mighty army after the extravagant tribute fails to placate him. Worse, the city itself will be destroyed (Isa. 32:14)—an event still a century off. But beyond all that is the pouring out of the Spirit (Isa. 32:15–20)—God’s doing, powerfully transforming the people of God—effected at Pentecost in the wake of the resurrection and exaltation of Jesus the Messiah (Acts 2:16–18) and consummated at his return (Rev. 11:15–17).

Deuteronomy 3; Psalm 85; Isaiah 31; Revelation 1

ALTHOUGH ISAIAH 31 BEGINS ON a historical plane, as so often in this prophecy the text holds up a more distant horizon and a more extensive hope.

At one level Isaiah is still pronouncing divine woes on “those who go down to Egypt for help, who rely on horses, who trust in the multitude of their chariots … but do not look to the Holy One of Israel, or seek help from the LORD” (Isa. 31:1). Isaiah resorts to sarcasm: God, too, “is wise and can bring disaster” (Isa. 31:2). He resorts to metaphor: God can be likened to a lion perfectly able to fight (Isa. 31:4), or to a flock of birds perfectly able to protect its own (Isa. 31:5). That brings the reader to the pivotal verses of this chapter, the only ones written in prose: “Return to him you have so greatly revolted against, O Israelites. For in that day every one of you will reject the idols of silver and gold your sinful hands have made” (Isa. 31:6–7).

There is no alternative to repentance, no other way to experience the blessing of the Lord. The nature of repentance in Scripture precludes the nonsense of partial repentance or contingent repentance. Genuine repentance does not turn from one sin while safeguarding others; partial repentance is as incongruous as partial pregnancy. Loyalty to God in selective areas is no longer loyalty, but treason. To repent of disloyalty in select areas, while preferring disloyalty in others, is no repentance at all. God does not ask us to give up this or that idol while permitting us to nurture several others; he demands, rather, that we abandon idolatry itself and return to the God against whom we have “so greatly revolted.” For God is more than able to defend his people against the might of Assyria, to unleash a sword “not of mortals” (Isa. 31:8). The literal fulfillment of this promise is Isaiah 37:36 (see meditation for June 5).

Yet the hints of a still greater deliverance in the more distant future are not hard to find. Once again Isaiah predicts what will happen “in that day” (Isa. 31:7), that pregnant expression that so commonly signals prophetic foreshortening. Although the loss of almost two hundred thousand Assyrian troops, referred to in Isaiah 37:38, occurred in 701 B.C., the final collapse of Assyria and its capital Nineveh, described in the closing verses of this chapter, would not take place for another century (612). Moreover, references to the fire of God in Zion (Isa. 31:9) call to mind Isaiah 4:2–6 and Isaiah 29:5–8—visions of the destruction of all of Zion’s foes and of the Lord’s future reign.

Deuteronomy 2; Psalms 83–84; Isaiah 30; Jude

ISAIAH 30–31 STAND TOGETHER AS A stern denunciation of all who pursue an alliance with Egypt. Both chapters open with formidable opposition to this alliance (Isa. 30:1–5; 31:1–3). But Isaiah 30 concludes with the grace of God, while Isaiah 31 ends in a mighty call to repentance. Striking parallels emerge between Isaiah 30 and today’s second highlighted reading, Jude.

The first half of Isaiah 30 denounces the leaders in Judah who are aggressively pursuing the help of Egypt. Already their envoys have reached cities in Egypt’s Nile delta (Isa. 30:4). Donkeys and camels, burdened with wealth to buy Egypt’s support, are crossing the Negev on their way south. From God’s perspective this proves that they are covenantally unfaithful. They are “obstinate children,” “deceitful children” (Isa. 30:1, 9), literally “rebellious sons”—instead of being the faithful son God expected (Ex. 4:22–23). They are more like the proverbial “rebellious son” of Deuteronomy 21:18–21, utterly unteachable and finally to be condemned. And the reason is disheartening: they do not want to listen to revelation—whether the ancient covenantal stipulations that forbade any return to Egypt (Ex. 13:17; Deut. 17:16) or the visions of their contemporary prophets and seers (Isa. 30:10). Their criterion for acceptable sermons is painfully simple: “Tell us pleasant things, prophesy illusions. Leave this way, get off this path, and stop confronting us with the Holy One of Israel” (Isa. 30:10–11). That sounds desperately reminiscent of much of the quest for “spirituality” in our day, inside and outside the church, and for much of “therapeutic Christianity,” for much of ecumenical Christianity, for much of the health and wealth gospel. There are huge differences among these movements, of course, but what is characteristically missing in them is the powerful theme of impending judgment wherever there is no unqualified submission to God’s gracious revelation.

Our hope is the grace of God (Isa. 30:17–33). He longs to be gracious to his people (Isa. 30:18)—whether as their Teacher (Isa. 30:18–22), the One who heals their land (Isa. 30:23–26), or the Warrior who defends them (Isa. 30:27–33). Here are the fundamental alternatives: grace (Isa. 30:18) or Topheth (Isa. 30:33), the fire pit that anticipates hell itself. Jude understands this. In his own day false teachers leading the people astray are “godless men … who suffer the punishment of eternal fire” (Jude 4, 7). By contrast, “To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore!” (Jude 24–25).

Deuteronomy 1; Psalms 81–82; Isaiah 29; 3 John

IN THE THIRD MAJOR SECTION of his book (chaps. 28–35), Isaiah focuses on the central issue that the Jerusalem monarch faces. Will the southern kingdom turn to Egypt as it seeks to withstand the aggression of Assyria, or will it trust the Lord? The nature of the crisis and the abysmal voices circulating in the court occupy chapters 28–29. Chapters 30–31 pronounce woes on all who rely on Egypt: in that direction lies only disaster. Chapters 32–33 depict the godly solution: trust the living God who reigns as King in the midst of his people. The last two chapters of the section, 34 and 35, display respectively the scorched earth of judgment that will result from trusting pagan nations, and the garden of delight that awaits those who trust the Lord.

Isaiah 29, then, is part of the description of the crisis. Jerusalem is addressed as “Ariel” (Isa. 29:1, 2, 7). We know this stands for Jerusalem, because it is described as “the city where David settled” (Isa. 29:1). The coinage is almost certainly Isaiah’s; there is no record of any earlier use of this word for Jerusalem. “Ariel” is a pun on “altar hearth”—the flat surface on the altar where the fire consumed the sacrifices (cf. Ezek. 43:15). God says he is going to “besiege Ariel,” which will be to him “like an altar hearth” (Isa. 29:2): God will ignite the fires of judgment under Jerusalem.

The tragedy of the situation lies in the sheer blindness of the people. This is simultaneously their perversity and God’s judgment (Isa. 29:9–10). No matter what God discloses through Isaiah, the people simply blank out when they hear his words. The truth they cannot fathom; they have no categories for it, for their hearts are far removed from God’s ways (Isa. 29:13). For them, all that Isaiah says remains like words sealed up in a scroll they cannot read (Isa. 29:11–12). Even their worship becomes little more than conformity to rules (Isa. 29:13b). So when God does finally break through, it will be with “wonder upon wonder,” all designed to overthrow the pretensions of the “wise” and “intelligent” (Isa. 29:14) who counsel the king to do what God forbids.

The ultimate fulfillment of this pattern takes place in gospel times. Paul understands perfectly well how the person without the Spirit of God finds the truth of the Gospel largely incoherent, how the “wise” and “intelligent” broach many schemes, none of them consistent with the Gospel (1 Cor. 1:18–31; 2:14). Here, too, God destroys the wisdom of the wise (1 Cor. 1:19; Isa. 29:14), for his own way is what none of the wise had foreseen: the sheer “foolishness” of the cross.

Numbers 36; Psalm 80; Isaiah 28; 2 John

EVEN A CURSORY READING OF 2 John shows that the background to this short epistle overlaps in some measure with the background to 1 John. In both epistles there is a truth question tied to the identity of Jesus Christ. “Many deceivers, who do not acknowledge Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh, have gone out into the world” (2 John 7). These particular deceivers denied “Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh”—which, interpreted paraphrastically, means they denied that Jesus was Christ come in the flesh. They introduced a hiatus between the flesh-and-blood Jesus and the “Christ” who came upon him. Thus they denied the essential oneness of Jesus Christ, the God/man, the one who was simultaneously Son of God and human being. There were many sad implications.

The reasons for this doctrinal aberration were bound up with widespread cultural pressures. Suffice it to say that these “deceivers,” these “errorists” (as some have called them), thought of themselves as advanced thinkers, as progressives. They did not see themselves as evaluating the Christian faith and choosing to deny certain cardinal truths, picking and choosing according to some obscure principle. Rather, they saw themselves as providing a true and progressive interpretation of the whole, over against the conservatives and traditionalists who really did not understand the culture. That is why John speaks of them, with heavy irony, as running ahead of the truth: “Anyone who runs ahead and does not continue in the teaching of Christ does not have God; whoever continues in the teaching has both the Father and the Son” (2 John 9). John’s stance is much like the old minister who hears some newfangled doctrine and opines,

You say I am not with it.
My friend, I do not doubt it.
But when I see what I’m not with,
I’d rather be without it.

The crucial issue, of course, is not whether one is “progressive” or not, or a “traditionalist” or not: one could be a progressive in a good or a bad sense, and a traditionalist in a good or a bad sense. Such labels, by themselves, are frequently manipulative and rarely add much clarity to complex matters. The real issue is whether or not one is holding to the apostolic Gospel, whether or not one is continuing in the teaching of Christ. That is the perennial test.

Which contemporary movements fail this test, either because they rush “ahead” of the Gospel in their drive to be contemporary or because they have become encrusted with traditions that domesticate the Gospel?

Numbers 35; Psalm 79; Isaiah 27; 1 John 5

MOST PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ 1 John a few times know that John discusses a number of evidences (some commentators call them “tests” or “tests of life”) that clarify who truly is a Christian. Most people see three tests: (a) a test of truth, in particular the truth that Jesus is the Son of God; (b) a test of obedience, in particular obedience to the commands of Jesus; (c) a test of love, in particular love for our brothers and sisters. The danger lies in thinking that these “tests” somehow make independent contributions, as if a person might hope to pass two out of three. But toward the end of this epistle, not least in 1 John 5:1–5, these three tests come together in such a way that they are not independent at all. They all hang together.

This paragraph begins with the truth test, with the person “who believes that Jesus is the Christ” (1 John 5:1). That person is born of God—a point repeatedly reiterated in John’s writings. But everyone who is born of God will surely love others who have been born of God—spiritual siblings, as it were (1 John 5:1). Thus the truth test is linked, through the new birth, to the love test. How then do we know that we really do love the children of God? Well, first of all, by loving God himself, and then in consequence carrying out his commands (1 John 5:2). Indeed, it is ridiculous to claim to love God and not obey him. So obvious is this that one might go so far as to say that “love for God” is “to obey his commands” (1 John 5:3). Of course, John has already reminded his readers that one of Jesus’ central commands, his “new commandment,” is that his disciples love one another (1 John 2:3–11; 3:11–20; cf. John 13:34–35). Thus the love test is tied to the obedience test at several levels.

One must not think that Christianity is nothing more than tough-minded obedience. The truth is that Jesus’ commands “are not burdensome” (1 John 5:3), for in the new birth God has given us the power to perform what Jesus commands, the ability to overcome “the world” (1 John 5:4–5; cf. 2:15–17). Who, then, has this power to overcome the world? Those who are born again, those who have genuine faith, of course—and genuine faith is defined in terms of faith’s object, namely the truth that Jesus truly is the Son of God. Thus the test of obedience, and with it the test of love, is tied back to the truth test.

The glorious reality is that, in the Christian way, truth and ethics are tied together. Creedal confession and transformed living go hand in hand. Any other alternative is either superstition or humbug.

Numbers 34; Psalm 78:40–72; Isaiah 26; 1 John 4

IN HIS SONG OF PRAISE, ISAIAH celebrates the Lord’s impending triumph and demonstrates what it means to wait for him to act (Isaiah 26). The opening verses offer anticipatory praise (Isa. 26:1–6), offered to the God who makes the ultimate Jerusalem the rampart of security (Isa. 26:2) and preserves in peace the minds of all the individuals within it—all who trust in the living God (Isa. 26:3–4).

Most of the chapter is devoted to reflections on what it means to wait for that ultimate triumph (Isa. 26:7–21). “Yes, LORD,” Isaiah writes, “walking in the way of your laws, we wait for you; your name and renown are the desire of our hearts” (Isa. 26:8). But while the righteous yearn for the living God (Isa. 26:9a), the shocking reality is that the people who do not know him never learn anything from the grace that God shows them (Isa. 26:9b–10). And so eventually the people of God cry out that God might come and impose his righteousness (Isa. 26:11)—very much as in Revelation 6:10.

Meanwhile, the faithful remnant live with ambiguity and disappointment (Isa. 26:12–18). Idolatry flourishes in the land where the living God established peace (Isa. 26:12–13). The remnant remains faithful while the culture succumbs (Isa. 26:13). What is described in the next verses is almost the cyclical pattern of Israel’s history. God responds to the infidelity with judgment. In due course he returns with grace, enlarges the nation, and extends his own glory. And yet, when all is said and done, what is the outcome? The nation is like a woman writhing in the pains of childbirth—and when she finally brings forth her offspring, all she has produced is wind (Isa. 26:18). “We have not brought salvation to the earth; we have not given birth to people of the world” (Isa. 26:18). Where is the great hope bound up with Israel’s identity, with the promise to the patriarch that in Israel’s seed all the nations of the earth would be blessed (Gen. 12)?

Yet the chapter ends with hope. There is even hope for those who have died during the wearisome cycles of frustration, failure, futility, and judgment: they neither waited nor died in vain, for they will rise from the dead and share in the joy of victory (Isa. 26:19)—a promise of life briefly glimpsed in Isaiah 25:8, demonstrated in the resurrection of Jesus, and ultimately fulfilled at the end (1 Cor. 15; 1 Thess. 4:13–18). Meanwhile, those who are still alive must wait in patience for the wrath of God to pass (Isa. 26:20–21). More clearly than Isaiah, we know that “our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Cor. 4:17–18; cf. Rom. 8:18).