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Grace Alone

R. C. Sproul

Soli Deo gloria is the motto that grew out of the Protestant Reformation and was used on every composition by Johann Sebastian Bach. He affixed the initials SDG at the bottom of each manuscript to communicate the idea that it is God and God alone who is to receive the glory for the wonders of His work of creation and of redemption. At the heart of the sixteenth-century controversy over salvation was the issue of grace.

It was not a question of man’s need for grace. It was a question as to the extent of that need. The church had already condemned Pelagius, who had taught that grace facilitates salvation but is not absolutely necessary for it. Semi-Pelagianism since that time has always taught that without grace there is no salvation. But the grace that is considered in all semi-Pelagian and Arminian theories of salvation is not an efficacious grace. It is a grace that makes salvation possible, but not a grace that makes salvation certain. In the parable of the sower we see that regarding salvation, God is the one who takes the initiative to bring salvation to pass. He is the sower. The seed that is sown is His seed, corresponding to His Word, and the harvest that results is His harvest. He harvests what He purposed to harvest when He initiated the whole process. God doesn’t leave the harvest up to the vagaries of thorns and stones in the pathway. It is God and God alone who makes certain that a portion of His Word falls upon good ground. A critical error in interpreting this parable would be to assume that the good ground is the good disposition of fallen sinners, those sinners who make the right choice, responding positively to God’s prevenient grace. The classical Reformed understanding of the good ground is that if the ground is receptive to the seed that is sown by God, it is God alone who prepares the ground for the germination of the seed.

The biggest question any semi-Pelagian or Arminian has to face at the practical level is this: Why did I choose to believe the gospel and commit my life to Christ when my neighbor, who heard the same gospel, chose to reject it? That question has been answered in many ways. We might speculate that the reason why one person chooses to respond positively to the gospel and to Christ, while another one doesn’t, is because the person who responded positively was more intelligent than the other one. If that were the case, then God would still be the ultimate provider of salvation because the intelligence is His gift, and it could be explained that God did not give the same intelligence to the neighbor who rejected the gospel. But that explanation is obviously absurd.

The other possibility that one must consider is this: that the reason one person responds positively to the gospel and his neighbor does not is because the one who responded was a better person. That is, that person who made the right choice and the good choice did it because he was more righteous than his neighbor. In this case, the flesh not only availed something, it availed everything. This is the view that is held by the majority of evangelical Christians, namely, the reason why they are saved and others are not is that they made the right response to God’s grace while the others made the wrong response.

We can talk here about not only the correct response as opposed to an erroneous response, but we can speak in terms of a good response rather than a bad response. If I am in the kingdom of God because I made the good response rather than the bad response, I have something of which to boast, namely the goodness by which I responded to the grace of God. I have never met an Arminian who would answer the question that I’ve just posed by saying, “Oh, the reason I’m a believer is because I’m better than my neighbor.” They would be loath to say that. However, though they reject this implication, the logic of semi-Pelagianism requires this conclusion. If indeed in the final analysis the reason I’m a Christian and someone else is not is that I made the proper response to God’s offer of salvation while somebody else rejected it, then by resistless logic I have indeed made the good response, and my neighbor has made the bad response.

What Reformed theology teaches is that it is true the believer makes the right response and the non-believer makes the wrong response. But the reason the believer makes the good response is because God in His sovereign election changes the disposition of the heart of the elect to effect a good response. I can take no credit for the response that I made for Christ. God not only initiated my salvation, He not only sowed the seed, but He made sure that that seed germinated in my heart by regenerating me by the power of the Holy Ghost. That regeneration is a necessary condition for the seed to take root and to flourish. That’s why at the heart of Reformed theology the axiom resounds, namely, that regeneration precedes faith. It’s that formula, that order of salvation that all semi-Pelagians reject. They hold to the idea that in their fallen condition of spiritual death, they exercise faith, and then are born again. In their view, they respond to the gospel before the Spirit has changed the disposition of their soul to bring them to faith. When that happens, the glory of God is shared. No semi-Pelagian can ever say with authenticity: “To God alone be the glory.” For the semi-Pelagian, God may be gracious, but in addition to God’s grace, my work of response is absolutely essential. Here grace is not effectual, and such grace, in the final analysis, is not really saving grace. In fact, salvation is of the Lord from beginning to end. Yes, I must believe. Yes, I must respond. Yes, I must receive Christ. But for me to say “yes” to any of those things, my heart must first be changed by the sovereign, effectual power of God the Holy Spirit. Soli Deo gloria.

Note: This post was first published through Tabletalk Magazine website.

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The Holy Spirit in the Old Testament

R. C. Sproul

Genesis 1:1–2

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.”

God’s own Spirit, Joel tells us, is poured out upon all of His people in the last days (Joel 2:28–29). We know that this outpouring happened on Pentecost, shortly after Jesus ascended to heaven (Acts 2:1–21), but to fully enjoy the Spirit’s presence in our lives, we must understand who He is and what He does.

Over the next week, volume 5 of Dr. R. C. Sproul’s teaching series Foundations, which covers pneumatology (the doctrine of the Holy Spirit), will guide us in a study of the person and work of the Holy Spirit. You will note that in the preceding paragraph, we repeatedly referred to the Holy Spirit as “He,” not “it.” This reflects the teaching of Scripture that the Spirit is not an impersonal force or a mere attribute of God’s power, but rather a person. Many sects and cults teach otherwise, yet the use of the personal pronoun for the Holy Spirit and the fact that the Spirit possesses a will, knowledge, and affections reveals His personhood (John 16:4b–11; Eph. 4:30).

We have a personal relationship with the Holy Spirit just as we have a personal relationship with the other two persons of the Holy Trinity. The best place to begin our study of the person and work of the Holy Spirit is at the beginning, for the first place we read about the Spirit is in the opening verses of the Bible. Today’s passage reveals that at the moment of creation, God the Holy Spirit hovered over the primordial waters that our Creator had made ex nihilo, that is, “out of nothing” (Gen. 1:1–2). By His power in creation, He brought forth light out of darkness and order out of disorder. Thus, one of the key works of the Holy Spirit is to bring things to life and to set things in order. He is the Spirit of order, as Paul explains, for “God is not a God of confusion but of peace” (1 Cor. 14:33). Throughout the Old Testament, we see the Holy Spirit working also in redemption.

We have noted that the old covenant ministry of the Spirit to gift individuals for service was mainly limited to prophets, priests, and kings, although He regenerated all believers during the old covenant period. The Holy Spirit anointed prophets to speak God’s Word, priests to intercede for the people, and kings to lead Israel against the enemies of God (1 Sam. 16:13; 2 Chron. 24:20; 2 Peter 1:21). The Lord used all these individuals to advance His plan of redemption, pointing ultimately to Christ, whom the Spirit anointed as our Prophet, Priest, and King to secure our eternal salvation (Heb. 1:1–4; 9:14).

Note: This post was first published through Tabletalk Magazine website.

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Revelation, Coronavirus, and the Mark of the Beast: How Should Christians Read the Bible’s Most Fascinating Book? Part 3

Kevin DeYoung

I started this series when the whole world was talking about COVID-19, and some people were wondering if the signs of Revelation were unfolding—or would soon unfold—before our eyes. That’s what prompted these three posts on how to read the book of Revelation. Let me bring this short series to a close by trying to explain what may be the most famous sign in Revelation: the mark of the beast.

In order to understand the mark of the beast in Revelation 13:18, we need to see what is happening in the rest of the chapter. In the first half of chapter 13, we’re introduced to a beast from the sea. This beast is broadly representative of the political sphere. In the second half of chapter 13, we are introduced to a beast from the earth. This beast is broadly representative of the religious sphere. If the first beast is the perversion of the state, the second beast is the perversion of true worship.

With that as a basic outline, let’s go verse by verse through the second half of the chapter. Then I saw another beast rising out of the earth. It had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon (v. 11).

This imagery comes from Daniel 8 where Daniel sees a vision of a ram with two horns. That’s where the picture comes from, but what it points to is a counterfeit Christ. This beast looks like Christ, the lamb, but speaks the lies of the dragon, that is, the Devil.

Remember, the first beast is the perversion of the state, and the second beast is the perversion of Christianity. We shouldn’t expect false religion to appear immediately and obviously false. We should expect other religions to talk about love and morality. We should expect there to be many similarities, some real and some perceived, between true Christianity and false Christianity. We should expect false Christian cults and perversions to speak highly of Jesus. We should expect them to talk about the cross. We should expect similar religious language and themes, which is why we must be wise. The beast may look a lamb, but if you are discerning, you will hear that the voice is the voice of a dragon.

It exercises all the authority of the first beast in its presence, and makes the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose mortal wound was healed (v. 12).

The second beast is an accomplice to the first. He acts on his behalf and leads people to worship him. In the first century there was a large imperial cult. There were priests and sacred rituals and officials insisting on the deity of the emperor. They encouraged, and sometimes made mandatory, the worship of the state. Religion is at its worst when it does nothing but lends credence to and encourages support of the corrupt and blasphemous state.

We all feel the need to experience something bigger than ourselves. We all want to touch transcendence. We were created to worship God. There is something hard-wired in all humans that compels us to search after the divine or find something spiritual. That’s the good news. God made us for God.

The bad news is the human heart is an idol factory. We find God in all the wrong places. The Devil is perfectly happy to have everyone searching for God. He is entirely content to have all of us on a spiritual journey looking for transcendence. There’s a reason hardly anyone is an atheist. The Devil doesn’t care if people believe in God. He just doesn’t want people to believe in and be satisfied in Jesus Christ. So if we can find a religious-like feeling in political activism or spirituality in the entertainment industry or experience transcendence in art or make a god out of the family, then the Devil has won. The second beast lives wherever the Devil entices people to worship something man-made, to make an idolatrous image out of anything other than Jesus Christ, who alone is the image of the invisible God.

It performs great signs, even making fire come down from heaven to earth in front of people, and by the signs that it is allowed to work in the presence of the beast it deceives those who dwell on earth, telling them to make an image for the beast that was wounded by the sword and yet lived (vv. 13-14).

The second beast is a false prophet. Three times, Revelation makes reference to the beast and the false prophet (16:13; 19:20; 20:10). The second beast is the Minister of Propaganda, deceiving people to follow after the first beast. In verse 11, we saw the second beast as a false Christ. Now we see him as a false Elijah. Elijah, you recall, called down fire from heaven to burn up the sacrifices in full view of the prophets of Baal. The beast can do impressive feats just like Elijah. Don’t think false religion will appear worthless. Idolatry will boast of great accomplishments, even miracles. The priests of Egypt had their secret arts too. Don’t be impressed with mere signs unless they point to the Son that you might be impressed with him.

And it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast might even speak and might cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be slain (v. 15).

“He was given power to give breath to the image of the first beast.” In other words, the second beast persuades the world that the image of the first beast is truly God. In the first century, this meant that the religious establishment convinced people that they should worship statues and images of Caesar. In our day, the beast may not directly instruct us to worship the state or the president, but he still functions as the mouthpiece for the Devil. He entices us to make money the desire of our hearts. He convinces us that sex will be most fulfilling when it is most free of commitment and ethical norms. He lies to us about the lasting value of fame and power and professional success and academic prestige. The beast gives breath to these things so that they seem god-like in our eyes. We must have them. We will not be happy or fulfilled or valuable without them.

Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name (vv. 16-17).

No one knows exactly where this imagery comes from or if it even has allusion to anything in the first century. It cold be an allusion to slave’s branding, or soldier’s tattoo, or some practice of compulsory idol worship developing in the first century. Any or all of these may serve as background imagery for these verses, but the mark in reality is not a visible mark. It is an invisible spiritual mark. The righteous and believing have the Father’s name written on their foreheads, and the wicked and unbelieving have the name of the beast. In both case we are talking about a spiritual mark, an invisible stamp of approval. This verse has nothing to do with bar codes or UPC labels or credit card numbers or Social Security numbers. The point of these verses is much simpler: if you don’t compromise with the worldly system, you will suffer. In the first century, this meant that your refusal to worship Caesar (to be spiritually identified with the beast) could mean persecution or discrimination or alienation. The world has a way of operating and when we choose a different way, we must be prepared for setbacks, strange looks, and often shame and suffering.

This calls for wisdom: let the one who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and his number is 666 (v. 18).

This is probably the most debated verse in Revelation. It certainly is the verse that has produced the most fruitless debate. All sorts of numerical schemes have been concocted in various languages to try to decode 666. Here’s a list of referents I’ve seen for 666: Caligula, Domitian, Caesar God, Lateinos (the Roman Empire), “beast,” Antemus, Phoebus, Gensericus, Balaam, Mohammed, Martin Luther, Oliver Cromwell, Kaiser (Wilhelm), Hitler, the Nicolaitans, Euanthas, Teitan (Titans), the initials of the Roman emperors from Julius Caesar to Vespasian (minus Otho and Vitellius), the triangular number of 36 which is the triangular number of 8 which is significant because 8 is associated with Gnosticism or because the Antichrist in Revelation 17 is called the eighth king, the Latin Kingdom, the Italian Church, various Popes, all the Popes, the phrase “Vicar of the Son of God” and phrases like it, Ronald Reagan, and William Jefferson Clinton. I’m sure there are more.

All of these solutions are calculated by a process known as gematria. In the ancient world every letter corresponded to a number, just like A might equal 1, and B equal 2, C equal 3, and so on. The numbering scheme was often more complicated, but that’s the idea. Every letter could also be a number, so names could be translated into numbers. Kevin, for example, in our simplified scheme would be 11+5+22+9+14, which equals 61. That’s gematria. And people did use it in the ancient world, more than we think. There’s a text that identifies Jesus’s gematria name as 888, which is supposed to be significant because 8 is the number of re-creation. So through all sorts of complicated gematria calculations in different languages, people have come up with all the names in the list above.

Some of the names in the list are absurd. Most of the interpretations are not widely followed. The only name that has really gotten a strong following is Nero. If you take the Greek Neron Kaisar and transliterate it into Hebrew you get 50+200+6+50 and then 100+60+200, all of which together equals 666.

A possible corroboration for this view can be found in the Latin version of his name. Neron Kaiser transliterated in Latin gives you 616, which is the number of the beast in some alternative manuscripts (also the area code for Grand Rapids, Michigan). Nero fits with the story line of Revelation better than the other alternatives. Nero killed himself in AD 68, but it was rumored that he would come back to life or was still living, just like the beast received a fatal wound that was healed. So, according to many scholars, 666 is most logically a reference to Nero. And by putting Nero in the form of a riddle like this, it protected the Christians from charges of sedition and further persecution.

So the number of the beast could refer to Nero. That’s the most plausible person to be connected with 666. But there are also problems with the calculation.

First, it is far from certain that most of John’s audience would have known Hebrew. Some were probably Jewish Christians who understood Hebrew, but most certainly, many were not. So relying on your readers to not only know gematria but also transliterate a name into another language they may not have known seems like a poor way to communicate, unless John wasn’t interested in his audience knowing the answer to the puzzle.

Second, to come up with 666, you have to spell Neron Kaisar incorrectly in Hebrew. You have to leave out a yodh, which some claim was an acceptable spelling, but it was certainly not the normal usage.

Third, none of the early church fathers calculated Neron Kaisar from 666. There is a fifth-century document that calculates Nero, but it uses the word antichristus to get 616.

Fourth, verse 18 does not call us to solve a riddle. When it says, “let him calculate the number,” the solution is given in the next line. The number is 666. We are not told to solve the question of 666. We are told that 666 is the answer to the question. More on that in a moment.

Fifth, finding hidden, precise meanings in numbers is not the way numbers work in Revelation. The imagery in Revelation is broader and less exact. The church is symbolized with pictures (the 24 elders, the two witnesses, the woman) and a number (144,000). The church age is symbolized by pictures (the measured temple, the trampled witnesses, the woman protected in the wilderness) and numbers (42 months, 1260 days, 3 ½ years). Likewise, false religion is symbolized by a picture (the beast) and a number (666). In each case, the pictures and numbers mean something, but they refer to general truths, not to specific people or referents.

Sixth, if dozens of names can be calculated from 666, how effective is this means of communication? As one author puts it, it doesn’t tell us much that a certain key fits the lock, if it’s a lock that works with almost any key. I once came across these three tongue-in-cheek “rules” for calculating the number of the beast: if the proper name doesn’t work, add a title; if Greek doesn’t work try Hebrew or Latin; if that doesn’t work try a different spelling. That’s more or less the approach most people take, and it yields a hundred different answers.

So if 666 isn’t code for Nero or anyone else, what does it mean? Here’s my humble opinion (he said humbly!): 666 is not meant to be a riddle hiding the name of the beast; 666 is simply the name and number of the beast. The number 666 is man’s number (cf. 21:17). You could understand this to mean “666 is a number of a man” or “666 is the number of man.” I think it’s the latter.

What have we seen with this second beast? He is a counterfeit. He leads people into false religion. So how do you express numerically counterfeit religion? 7 is the number of perfection and holy completion in the book of Revelation (7 churches, 7 lampstands, 7 eyes, 7 seals, 7 trumpets, and so on). The number 6, then, would be the number of imperfection and unholy incompletion. If 7 is the number for God, then 6 is the number of that most resembles, but is not, God—namely, man.

In other words, 666 is man’s counterfeit to the holy Trinity of 777. The Africa Bible Commentary puts it well:

The beast seems to be near perfection and almost messianic; it is, after all, a caricature of the Lamb who was slain (13:3, 11, 13). But it is not perfect, and that makes all the difference. It is actually diabolically and utterly opposed to God (13:4). The number 666 represents a threefold falling short of perfection (dragon: 6, beast: 6, false prophet: 6). But it is close to perfection, and has most of the hallmarks of truth, and so can easily deceive. No wonder wisdom is required!

All of which is to say, whatever you think of the way the medical establishment and the media and our politicians have handled this global pandemic, the mark of the beast is not going to be found in an implanted microchip. If, however, doctors or politicians or members of the media or anyone else, for that matter, elevates himself to a position of Godlike authority and knowledge, then that is what Revelation warns Christians against. Whatever or whomever appears as true Christianity in order to draw us away to some human counterfeit, that is the work of the beast, and his number is 666.

Note: This post was first published through The Gospel Coalition website.

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Revelation, Coronavirus, and the Mark of the Beast: How Should Christians Read the Bible’s Most Fascinating Book? Part 2

Kevin DeYoung

Earlier in the week I started a three-part series on how to read the book of Revelation. We will get to the mark of the beast next week, but first, an explanation of what Revelation says about itself.

You can tell a lot about a book by its introduction. Read the first few sentences of a fairy tale, a memoir, or a logic textbook, and you will instinctively know that there are certain “rules” for interpreting these works correctly. A good introduction helps us approach the rest of the book in the right way. That’s what the introduction to Revelation does. It orients us to the type of literature we are about to encounter.

In particular, the first three verses of Revelation tell us three important things about the type of book we are reading. Revelation is an apocalypse, a prophecy, and a letter.

Apocalypse

The word “revelation” is simply the English translation of the Greek word apokalupsis found at the beginning of verse 1. The book of Revelation is about the uncovering or the unveiling of what must soon take place. To be sure, in some ways, this is a mysterious and difficult book. But we must remember, Revelation is not meant to shroud the truth but to reveal it. God means for us to understand this book.

“Apocalyptic” can sound like an intimidating word, but all we need to understand that as an apocalypse, Revelation is a book of showing. That’s what makes it so intriguing and so tricky. The book doesn’t give us precise legal codes; it gives us verbal pictures. “The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him [Jesus] to show to his servants the things that must soon take place” (Rev. 1:1). It’s important to note that John doesn’t draw us a picture of what he saw or act it out in a play. He expects his visions to be read and heard. We are still dealing with text. But don’t look past the obvious: Revelation is a book of showing. The verb “to see” appears 52 times in Revelation. We are meant to “see” what we read on the pages.

We should look at the visions of Revelation as we would look at portraits in an art gallery. Revelation is not given as sequential clips from a movie, but as self-contained portraits that often show the same thing in a different way. The word most scholars use is “recapitulation.” It means that Revelation is not a chronological road map from chapters 4 to 22, but a series of visions that overlap and repeat. The seven seals are a portrait, and the seven trumpets are another portrait, but they do not necessarily follow one after the other.

Let me see if I can explain this recapitulation better by giving you some examples. Look at Revelation 11:15-18. It’s clearly a picture of final judgment for all people, the righteous and the wicked, the small and the great. Compare these verses with Revelation 20:11-15, which is clearly another picture of final judgment. It will be difficult to make sense of these sections if we think one follows chronologically after the other. We aren’t watching a movie unfold in real time; we are looking at different portraits of the same reality.

You could also look at Revelation 16:17 where the seventh angel pours out his bowl and says, “It is done!” Then in 21:6, he who sits on the throne says, “It is done!” If chapter 21 occurs temporally after chapter 16, we are left with a lot of confusion. God declares “It is done” in two different places. But if Revelation is full of recapitulation, this is not a problem.

Here is one more pair of verses: Revelation 6:12-17 and 16:18-20. In both sections we encounter the day of God’s wrath with a cataclysmic earthquake, islands fleeing, and mountains removed from their place. How can the earth crumble to pieces two times? It doesn’t. But in Revelation, we often have two different portraits of the same event.

We can’t read Revelation like every other book. Revelation is a book of symbols in motion. The graphic images and pictures (given with words) point to a deeper reality. The seven stars are angels, and the seven lampstands are seven churches (1:20). The seven heads are seven hills (17:9). The prostitute is a great city (17:18). Fine linen stands for the righteous acts of the saints (19:8). The ancient serpent is the Devil (20:2). Unless we are prepared to look at Revelation symbolically—in pictures—we will miss the point.

Because Revelation is a showing book, full of symbols, numbers play a crucial role. John doesn’t use numbers as secret codes to crack but as signs of completeness, totality, and perfection (or the lack thereof). Three numbers are particularly important: seven, four, and twelve.

Seven is the number of completeness, especially in a spiritual sense. Thus, John writes to seven churches (real churches) as a representation of all churches. Likewise, we see seven spirits, seven judgments (in the seals, trumpets, and bowls), and seven lamps. The phrase “Lord God Almighty” occurs seven times (1:8; 4:8; 11:17; 15:3; 16:7; 19:6; 21:22), as does the phrase “the one who sits on the throne” (4:9; 5:1, 7, 13; 6:16; 7:15; 21:5) and the word “Christ” (1:1, 2, 5; 11:15; 12:10; 20:4, 6).  Prophecy is mentioned seven times (1:3; 11:6; 19:10; 22:7, 10, 18, 19). Peoples, tribes, languages, and nations are mentioned seven times (5:9; 7:9; 10:11; 11:9; 13:7; 14:6; 17:15). The Spirit/Holy Spirit is mentioned seven times in relation to the seven churches and another seven times in the rest of the book (1:10; 4:2; 14:3; 17:3; 19:10; 21:10; 22:17). Jesus is used 14 times (7 x 2), and Christ is called the Lamb twenty-eight times (7 x 4).

The number four points to universality or worldwide scope. That’s why we read of four living creatures, four horsemen, the four corners of the earth, the four winds, and the four-fold phrase “people, tribe, language, and nation.” Similarly, the phrase “the one who lives forever” appears four times (4:9, 10; 10:6; 15:7) as does “seven spirits” (1:4; 3:1; 4:5; 5:6) and references to lightning, sounds, and thunder from the throne (4:5; 8:5; 11:19; 16:18).

The number 12 and its multiples indicate the fullness of God’s people. Hence, we have 12 tribes and 12 apostles. We read of 24 (12 x 2) thrones and 24 elders. We see God’s people symbolically depicted as 144,000 (12 x 12 x 1000). And in the depiction of the New Jerusalem where God’s people dwell for all eternity, the number 12 occurs 12 times.

You get the picture (pun intended). Revelation, as an apocalypse, is a book of symbols and a book of showing.

Prophecy

Revelation is also a prophecy (1:3; 22:7), and as such, it’s rooted in Old Testament imagery. We will misread Revelation if we try to find referents from our day instead of first of all seeing allusions from the Old Testament. Think of all the Old Testament imagery that Revelation borrows: the tree of life, the ancient serpent, the plagues, the Song of Moses, Jezebel, Babylon, the temple, Jerusalem, the 12 tribes of Israel, priests, incense, Balaam, the water of life, the winepress of God’s wrath, and on and on and on. Even though Revelation is about the future, it, more than any other book in the New Testament, only makes sense when seen through the eyes of the past. A list of Old Testament allusions and parallels in Revelation would fill several pages, with around 500 references.

Moreover, Revelation is not just steeped in Old Testament imagery, it is the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. Think, for example, of the connection between Revelation and the book of Daniel. In Daniel 2 Daniel interprets a dream for King Nebuchadnezzar. In his dream Nebuchadnezzar sees a large statue made of gold, silver, iron, and clay. The statue is broken to pieces by a rock that then becomes a huge mountain that fills the whole earth. The four metals are four kingdoms, and the rock is a final kingdom set up by God that will destroy all the other kingdoms and never be destroyed. In Daniel 2:28 Daniel says, “God has shown King Nebuchadnezzar what will happen in days to come.” And in verse 29 he says, “The revealer of mysteries showed you what is going to happen.” This language is similar, and identical in parts, to the language used in Revelation 1:1, except this time John speaks of a revelation that God gave to show what must soon take place. The phrase “what must soon take place” is used four times in Revelation, and the connection with Daniel is deliberate. What Daniel interpreted as going to happen in latter days is now close and even at hand. The appointed time when God would set up his divine everlasting kingdom—that rock that destroyed the statue of gold, silver, iron, and clay—has arrived.

Let me highlight one more connection, this time between the end of Daniel and the end of Revelation. In Daniel 12:4 Daniel is told, “But you, Daniel, close up and seal the words of the scroll until the time of the end.” In Revelation 22:10 John is told, “Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this book, because the time is near.” You can hear the similar language. But, whereas Daniel was told to seal it up until the end, John was told to keep it open, because the time is near. What Daniel saw was coming to culmination in John’s day. What had been far off was now near at hand.

This means we are in the end times/last days and have been for years (cf. Acts 2:17; 1 Tim. 4:1). This doesn’t mean the end of the world is tomorrow. The “end times” or the “last days” is the designation for the time following the triumph of Jesus Christ on the cross. A new day has dawned in salvation history. That’s the point of the connections between Daniel and Revelation. The divine kingdom that would destroy all other kingdoms has already come—it is at hand. But it is not yet fully established. The prophecy of Daniel and the whole Old Testament, really, has come to its zenith in Revelation. The triumph of the Son of Man, the coming of the divine kingdom, and the salvation of the righteous, and the judgment of the wicked have already occurred, and they are not yet completed. In other words, the time that John saw as soon to appear has not been fully realized, but it has been inaugurated.

If all this sounds confusing, it’s because most of us don’t understand how multi-layered biblical prophecy is. Most prophecy in the Bible works by speaking to the immediate context and spinning out into the future. Most prophecy has an already and not-yet fulfillment.

For example, Isaiah 40:3-5 says, “A voice of one calling: In the desert prepare the way for the LORD; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain. And the glory of the LORD will be revealed, and all mankind together will see it.” What is Isaiah talking about? Well, he’s talking about the return from exile in Babylon, but he’s also thinking of a deliverance more complete. Therefore, when the Gospels see in John the Baptist the fulfillment of Isaiah 40, they aren’t making things up. They are seeing the fulfillment of God’s ultimate salvation. The New Testament writers understood—as the Old Testament prophets did—that prophecy usually has a near-term and long-term fulfillment.

It’s as if a prophet came to America after 9-11 and said, “Hear, O my people, in America. Your days of fear will soon be over. I will topple Hussein. Bin Laden will I find out. Baghdad will be a haunt of jackals and Al-Qaeda a wasteland. No more will terror strike your land. Mothers will no longer weep. Children will not be fatherless. I will deliver you from all your sorrows. Death shall be destroyed, and your punishment ended. I will be among you always. I am the Lord your God, and there is no other.” Obviously, that’s not a real prophecy. But since it deals with familiar people and places, we can more easily hear near-term and long-term fulfillment. My made-up prophecy speaks hope into the immediate context, but the language is also so exalted and otherworldly as to point us to a later, fuller fulfillment. That’s how prophecy worked in the Old Testament and how it is fulfilled in Revelation.

Letter

Revelation is an apocalypse, a prophecy, and a letter. It is a letter written by John and sent to seven real churches. Some of the churches were under attack: spiritually, physically, and materially. And some of the churches were knee-deep in compromise and worldliness. The message that this letter conveyed was, above almost all else, an exhortation to overcome. “Don’t give up. Don’t give in. Jesus has won the victory. Live like him. Die like him. But do not succumb to the devil and the world.”

Revelation was probably a circular letter meant to be read at one church and then sent on to the next. Revelation would be read in a worship service, probably in one sitting. Much of the congregation would have been illiterate. They couldn’t have studied the letter even if they had a copy, so the church would listen as the reader read.

You might think, But how could they possibly understand a book like this? They didn’t have commentaries, or concordances, or Bible software, or inductive training methods, or even a Bible to follow along in! But they did have several advantages we don’t have.

First, they didn’t have TVs, movies, and the internet, so they were probably just plain better at learning with their ears.

Second, they probably knew the Old Testament better than we do.

Third, they didn’t need a translation. Fourth, they lived in the world and culture in which the letter was written. That’s a huge advantage. No matter how brilliant and diligent our study, we will never be able to know the world of first-century Asia Minor as well as the people who lived in it. I’m sure there were all sorts of idioms, symbolisms, and referents that we struggle to uncover that they would have known instantly. We have to read big fat books to figure these things out, but things would have been much clearer had you been sitting in the First Church of Smyrna. This isn’t to make us despair of understanding Revelation. With a good knowledge of the Old Testament and some historical knowledge, we can understand this book. After all, God gave it to us to show his servants what must soon take place. The point I am trying to reinforce is that we must not forget Revelation was a real letter to real people. It was written for a first-century audience. Now, it still has significance for us, but it was first of all written to seven churches in Asia Minor who lived in the first century, understood Greek, and were threatened by persecution and tempted to compromise. While it’s quite possible for Revelation to signify more than first-century Christians could fully understand, it must never mean less. As a letter, our interpretations of Revelation must be constrained by John’s authorial intent and the original audience’s ability to make sense of what was written.

Note: This post was first published through The Gospel Coalition website.

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Revelation, Coronavirus, and the Mark of the Beast: How Should Christians Read the Bible’s Most Fascinating Book? Part 1

Kevin DeYoung

Whenever there is a cataclysmic global crisis—be it war, rumors of war, or a novel coronavirus—we see a sharp uptick of interest in the book of Revelation. While paying attention to the Bible is always a good thing, Revelation is too often used (by Christians and non-Christians) in a way that does less to edify the body of Christ and more to stoke the fires of wild speculation and unfounded conspiracy theories.

It may be helpful, then, to understand what kind of book Revelation is and how to make sense of imagery like the mark of the beast. We’ll get to the mark of the beast in the third and final installment of this short series. But before we get there I want to take a couple posts to look at what Revelation is all about and how we should interpret this not-as-strange-as-it-seems book.

Big Picture

Probably no book of the Bible has been harder for Christians to understand and, as a result, produced more bizarre theology than the book of Revelation. Although it is called “revelation,” it has been anything but a revelation for many Christians. It is a closed book for many of us, not correcting, not teaching, not rebuking, not training in righteousness like all Scripture should.

I remember teaching through part of Revelation for a Sunday school class several years ago and telling my mom about it over the phone. She said something like, “Kevin, you’re not going act like you have everything figured out are you? John Calvin didn’t even write a commentary on Revelation. You don’t know more than John Calvin, do you?” It is true that Calvin did not write a commentary on Revelation (one of the few books he didn’t write on), and it’s true that I don’t have everything figured out. But most of Revelation can be understood and applied if we will take the time to study it.

In fact, the entire book of Revelation can be summed up in one word: nike. Nike is the Greek word for victory. It occurs one time in the New Testament—1 John 5:4 states, “This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith.” Another form of the word (nikos) appears four other times, three times in 1 Corinthians 15 (e.g., “Death has been swallowed up in victory;” “He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ”). The verb form, nikao (meaning to conquer, to overcome, to triumph), occurs more frequently—28 times. Seventeen of those occurrences, more than in the rest of the New Testament combined, are in Revelation.

Revelation is the story of the Devil trying to conquer the church, but the church overcomes the Devil and the world because she belongs to the Lord who has won for us the victory (Rev. 5:5; 17:14). The book of Revelation gives instruction for the believer on how to conquer instead of being conquered, how to triumph instead of being trampled, and how to be an overcomer instead of a succumber. That’s why each of the seven letters to the seven churches concludes with “to the one who conquers . . .” If we cave and give in to persecution and give into worldliness and give into the Devil’s temptations, we will lose. But if we overcome through trial and suffering and seeming irrelevance, we will win (Rev. 21:6-7). That’s where history is heading, and that’s the big idea of Revelation.

(Possible) Map for the (Seeming) Madness

There is no one inspired way to understand the structure of Revelation. When studying this book in-depth several years ago, I found 11 different outlines, which suggests there probably isn’t one obvious structure we’re supposed to see.

One simple approach is to see Revelation as divided into two main sections. Chapters 1-11 introduce the story of God’s triumph, and chapters 12-22 explain the story in greater detail, this time unveiling in more depth the role of evil through the beast, the false prophet, and the whore of Babylon.

Another way of approaching the book is to divide it into four main sections, each marked off by the phrase “what must soon take place” or “what must take place after this.”

Rev. 1:1 The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants the things that must soon take place.

Rev. 1:19 Write therefore the things that you have seen, those that are and those that are to take place after this.

Rev. 4:1 “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.”

Rev. 22:6 “And the Lord, the God of the spirits of the prophets, has sent his angel to show his servants what must soon take place.”

The language in these four passages comes from Daniel 2 and indicates that Old Testament prophecy is already and not yet completed in Revelation.

There’s another way to outline the book into four main sections. This approach marks out the times John says he was caught up in the Spirit.

Rev. 1:10 I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s Day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet.

Rev. 4:2 At once I was in the Spirit, and behold, a throne stood in heaven, with one seated on the throne.

Rev. 17:3 And he carried me away in the Spirit into a wilderness.

Rev. 21:10 And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great, high mountain, and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God.

By this reckoning, Revelation consists of four main visions that John saw while he was in the Spirit on four different occasions.

Yet one more way of approaching the book—and the approaches are not mutually exclusive—is to look for sets of sevens. Everyone recognizes that seven is a crucial number in Revelation, and that there are at least four sets of sevens: seven letters, seven seals, seven trumpets, and seven bowls. This much everyone agrees on. But from here things get less clear. Since there are plainly at least four sets of sevens, many scholars have wondered if we are meant to see seven sets of sevens. I am convinced there are seven sets of sevens, but I certainly wouldn’t be dogmatic about it. My outline, which is similar to outlines I’ve seen from others, looks like this:

Prologue: 1:1-8 I. Seven letters: 1:9-3:22 II. Seven seals: 4:1-8:5 III. Seven trumpets: 8:6-11:19 IV. Seven visions: 12:1-15:4 V. Seven bowls: 15:5-16:21 VI. Seven judgments: 17:1-19:10 VII. Seven last things: 19:11-21:8 VIII. The beautiful bride: 21:9-22:21

You’ll notice there is an eighth section that is not a set of seven. An eighth section makes sense because eight is often the number of new creation in the Bible (Jesus rose on the eighth day/first day of a new week, eight people started the new humanity after the flood, sons were to be circumcised on the eighth day), and this eighth section is about the new heavens and new earth. But there is nothing inspired about the outline above. It’s just one way of making the book more manageable and putting together some possible patterns with some obvious ones.

Our Interpretive Lens

The last thing I want to do in this post is look at the various ways Christians have understood Revelation. There are four main schools of thought.

The first school of interpretation is called preterism. The preterist approach teaches that a large portion of the book of Revelation was fulfilled in the first century, specifically in the destruction of the temple in AD 70. Further, most of the prophecies in Revelation were fulfilled by the fall of the Roman Empire in the fifth century.

The strength of the preterist school is that it puts Revelation in its original context. Revelation was written to first-century Christians with first-century metaphors and imagery and referents. If we jump to the 21st century and ask, “What does this mean for me?,” we will almost surely get the wrong answer. We have to first ask, “What did this mean to them, to John’s original audience?”

Preterism is not without weaknesses. First, some preterists try to find a single, specific fulfillment to the prophecies of Revelation when it seems more likely that John’s visions often portray generalized spiritual battles and struggles that occur throughout the ages. Second, full-blown preterists argue that all of the end-time events, like the second coming and the last judgment, actually were fulfilled by AD 70. This does not seem in keeping with the cataclysmic language used at the end of each sequence.

The second school of interpretation is called historicism. The historicist reads Revelation as a straightforward, sequential roadmap of history. Revelation is seen as predicting any number of key historical figures and events from Napoleon to Hitler to the European Union to the United Nations.

The strength of historicism is that it makes Revelation relevant for all Christians. It focuses our attention not on the fall of the temple or on the Roman Empire but on the way of the church in the world.

But besides this strong point, historicism is the worst way to try to understand Revelation. It is full of weaknesses. Let me quickly mention just four.

First, historicism is often anachronistic and takes Revelation out of its original context. I am thinking of those who argued that the country out of the north (from Daniel, not Revelation) must be Russia, or that the locust swarm from Revelation 9 is foretelling a helicopter battalion. These sorts of interpretations completely ignore the imagery of ancient prophecy and the context of the first century.

Second, historicism, with its end-of-the-world predictions and identifications of the beast, has often been demonstrably wrong. During the cold war, people saw Russia in Revelation. A decade ago they saw Iraq. Now they see the coronavirus. In a few years, they will be on to something else. Historicists tend to see Revelation being fulfilled in whatever crisis is pertinent for the day. And then on another day, another group of historicists see that view was wrong and find something completely different.

Third, historicism limits the prophecies of Revelation to one exclusive location or personality instead of allowing that the imagery of Revelation may be well suited to an inclusive number of different figures and times. That is, I think historicists are right to see Revelation unfolding in history, but they are wrong to think that Revelation is uniquely unfolding in one historical moment.

Fourth, historicism is irreducibly subjective. There is simply no objective standard of interpretation. Who’s to say that Hitler was more the beast than Stalin? Or that 666 is a reference to Bill Clinton (as one website I found argues)? Or, as another article maintains, that Ronald Wilson Reagan (six letters in each of his names!) was the beast? It’s all hopelessly subjective. The text ends up saying anything we want it to.

The third school of interpretation is futurism. The futurist reads Revelation (chs. 4-22) as a prophecy solely concerned with the distant future. The events depicted refer to the time involving, or immediately preceding, the end of history. Dispensationalists are futurists (though not all futurists are dispensationalists).

The strength of futurism is that it emphasizes how Revelation speaks to the future, not just about the past. Futurism is right to see that some things in Revelation deal with the final consummation of human history. Futurists are also right to see that the future is moving somewhere, toward the triumph of the Lamb.

But futurism also has weaknesses.

First, if Revelation 4-22 is entirely and only about the distant future, then most of Revelation was barely relevant to its original readers. Sure, it would have helped them see the end of the world, but it really spoke little into their immediate context (when John says Revelation revealed “what must soon take place”).

Second, futurism often assumes a strict sequential chronology. And yet, we cannot assume that what is shown to us in chapter 12 comes in time after what we see in chapter 6. To the contrary, one of the keys to interpreting Revelation is to understand that its visions are recapitulated. So, Revelation gives us a sweep through history in the seven seals, and then does the sweep again in the seven bowls. Revelation comprises overlapping prophecies that go back and forth between the present and the future and are not strictly chronological.

Don’t think of the visions of Revelation as frames from a movie reel running through the light one after the other. Think of the visions as portraits in a gallery. You look at one portrait and get a glimpse of reality, and then you look at the next portrait, and then you walk over to the next room and look at the portraits over there. They are pictures telling the same story and pointing to the same reality, but they aren’t sequential clips from a movie.

The fourth school of interpretation is idealism. The idealist reads Revelation as a symbolic conflict between the forces of good and evil. Revelation, idealists argue, does not point to particular historical figures but depicts the timeless struggle between God and Satan. It interprets Revelation as a series of repeated symbolic pictures, focusing on the church’s triumphant struggle from the first century until the last judgment and the eternal state.

The strength of idealism is that is understands the symbolic nature of Revelation. It realizes that Revelation’s imagery is rooted first in Old Testament language and second in the known world of the first century. The other strength is that it sees behind the first-century context deeper spiritual realities that would outlive and transcend ancient Rome and remain relevant for believers throughout the ages.

The weakness of idealism is that it can at times under-emphasize the fact that all of history is moving somewhere. That is, idealism sometimes sounds vague, as if there were no end point in history as we know it, as if Revelation was just about the struggle between good and evil and not also about the ultimate triumph of Jesus Christ.

Interpret the Book

So what approach do I think helps us best understand Revelation? I think each approach offers something needed. This doesn’t mean that I think every approach is good or that one is not better than another (I’m basically an idealist with a partial preterist bent). But each school of interpretation does offer something important.

With the preterist, we must read Revelation in its immediate context.

With the idealist, we must look at Revelation as a symbolic portrayal of God’s work, most of which can be applied to any historical time.

With the futurist, we must read Revelation with end of history in mind, recognizing that the book depicts, in parts, the second coming, the final judgment, and the eternal state.

And with the historicist, we must understand that the prophecies of Revelation, though they are not limited to one particular occurrence, are fulfilled in time and space.

The best way to defend one’s interpretive grid is to actually interpret the book. But since this is a three-part blog series and not a 50-part sermon series, we will have to settle for just one more post on the subject. In the first three verses, John makes clear that this book is an apocalypse, a prophecy, and a letter. Once we know what each of the terms entail, we will be better equipped to understand the book as a whole and specific imagery like the mark of the beast.

Note: This post was first published through The Gospel Coalition website.