Pope Francis’ recent death is an opportunity for bible-believing Christians to consider what we ought to believe about the papacy. The goal is not to dance on a dead man’s grave, but to think about who oversees Christ’s church. Is the papacy a legitimate institution? Does it have biblical warrant?
The Catechism of the Catholic Church (“CCC”) says that:
Peter is the rock of the church, which is built upon him (CCC, Art(s). 881, 552).
Peter has the “keys” and therefore governs the church (CCC, Art(s). 553, 881).
Peter is the shepherd of the church, and priests and bishops have derivative authority under Peter.
Peter is the source and foundation of the unity of the church—he has full, supreme, and universal power (CCC, Art. 882).
According to the first Vatican council (Vatican I, 1869-70, Session 4), if you do not agree with Rome’s teaching about Peter, you are damned to hell.
This is all false and cannot be defended from scripture. Rome’s argument, both in the CCC and at Vatican I, centers on Matthew 16:18 and some supporting citations. My argument here focuses on the Matthew 16 passage. If you want to read more about Rome’s grave and terrible errors about the gospel, I recommend (a) James White, The Roman Catholic Controversy (Minneapolis: Bethany House, 1996), and (b) Tyler Robbins, “How Rome Distorts the Gospel—Atonement Misunderstood.”
Now—on to the papacy!
In Matthew 16:18-19, Jesus gives us two pairs of images: (a) the rock and the gates, and (b) the keys and the bonds. What do they mean? Oracles from “the Greek” won’t help you here—your bible translation is just fine. Whatever these images mean, they must make the best sense of what the passage is taking about in context.
Context—what are we talking about here?
Jesus asks his disciples who people say the Son of Man is (Mt 16:13). He refers to himself as the mysterious figure from Daniel’s famous vision (Dan 7:13-14). Public opinion says that Jesus is a prophet of some sort (Mt 16:14). Now, Jesus asks the disciples who they think he is (Mt 16:15). Peter answers: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16:17).
The “Messiah” is the chosen and anointed one, the special divine envoy (“Son of the living God”) who will make all God’s covenant promises come true. He is God’s promise-keeper. He makes God known to us (Jn 1:18). Jesus agrees and tells Peter that his Father in heaven has revealed this precious truth (i.e., his confession about Jesus’ identity) to him.
So, as we move on to consider the first pair of images, we must get this right—this conversation is about Jesus’ identity and what it means. Any interpretation that takes a hard turn off this road to something completely different is wrong.
Imagery 1—The Rock and the Gates
Jesus says: “And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it” (Mt 16:18). Here we have our first pair of images.
What are gates for? To keep people in or out.
What is Christ’s church build on? A rock.
Because Hades’ gates cannot prevail against the rock, these gates are imprisoning folks inside, and the rock smashes this gate open to set them free.
So, whatever “the rock” is …
The entire family of God is built on it,
and the rock is so strong, and so powerful,
that Satan’s kingdom can’t withstand it!
so it’s a pretty tough rock— divinely tough!
You have three options:
The rock is Peter—the pope.
Rome places great stock in a Greek wordplay that Jesus uses here: “And I tell you that you are Peter (Πέτρος—petros), and on this rock (πέτρᾳ—petra) I will build my church …” This is a weak argument. Unless context suggests otherwise (and remember, the context is Jesus’ identity and what it means), there is no need to see this as anything other than a playful wordplay.
For example, my first name is Mark. Yet my parents have called me Tyler all my life, so I have no idea why they bothered to name me Mark. A similar wordplay would be if someone told me: “Your name is Mark, and mark my words that …” That is all this need be. Peter has nothing to do with this conversation—they’re talking about Jesus’ identity.
The Rock is Jesus.
When he says, “and upon this rock,” he points to himself. This is weak and desperate. The pronoun translated “this” refers to something nearby in the context. This position rightly rejects Peter as the rock (because it is out of context), and to make Jesus himself “this rock,” they must make him point to himself. There is a simpler way—one that doesn’t require us to pantomime while explaining it.
The rock is Peter’s confession of Jesus’ identity and what it means—his faith and trust in the Messiah.
Option 3 is the right option.[1] Christ’s church family is built on the confession that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. You cannot be a Christian (and a member of the worldwide Jesus family) unless you trust and confess the truth about him. Again, remember the context of this passage—this whole conversation is about who Jesus is and why it matters. It is not about a disciple who Jesus is going to call “satan” in four verses. It is not about the disciple who Paul rebuked to his face in Antioch (Gal 2:11-14). It is not about the guy to whom nobody in the scripture gives special authority.
But the conversation certainly is about Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God. This explains why the rock is so strong, and so powerful, and why the gates of Hades can’t prevail against the church—because it’s divinely tough.
The completed imagery of rock + gates is this:
The rock is the confession that Jesus is the divine promise-keeper and Son of God.
The gates are to Satan’s kingdom, and they can no longer imprison those who believe in the rock.
Jesus (the rock) smashes these gates open—remember the divine rock which smashes the statue of pagan empires (which are really different flavors of Babylon, Satan’s kingdom) at Daniel 2:34-35, 44.
Peter cannot smash these gates open. Yet, this is what the “rock + gates” imagery would have us believe. Your safety, security, and anchor is Jesus. It wasn’t John Paul II. It wasn’t Benedict. It wasn’t Francis. It is not Leo. It’s the Messiah, the Son of the living God—just like the old song says— “On Christ the solid rock I stand. All other ground is sinking sand.”
Imagery 2—The Keys and the Bonds
Jesus continued: “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (Mt 16:19).
What are keys for? To control access. To let you in or out.
What do bonds do? They confine you. Imprison you.
We know that Jesus has the keys of life and death (Rev 1:18), the keys that lock people into that future, or let them out to embrace a better one tomorrow.
So, whatever the keys are,
They let you into the kingdom of heaven,
and untie or unchain you from the bonds that you’re in,
which means this is a divine power.
You have two options to understand what this means:
Peter has exclusive power to govern the church (the keys), and to absolve people’s sins by a sacred power—the bonds (CCC, Art(s). 553, 881, 1592).
This makes no sense of the “key” imagery. Keys are about access (Rev 1:18, 9:1, 20:1), not governance. Scripture never says to go to Peter—or anyone else—to have your sins absolved. Nor does Peter later claim this right for himself in his two New Testament letters. Instead, the bible tells us that God forgives sins—even David knew this (Ps 51:1-2).
Peter (and every other Christian) offers “the key” to freedom by preaching rescue (“the bonds”) through complete forgiveness of sins.
Option 2 is the correct one. Again, this entire conversation is about who Jesus is and why it matters. The keys don’t belong to Peter when Jesus speaks—he says he will give them to Peter (future-tense). Later, Jesus clarifies that the entire church has the keys—he even repeats the very same words (Mt 18:18).
The “key + bonds” imagery tells us this:
Jesus’ family,
organized into big and small Jesus communities around the world called “churches,”
are his hands and feet that offer the key to spiritual freedom,
by preaching liberation, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
and we untie the shackles or bonds by accepting people into the brotherhood of the faithful upon a credible profession of faith (see Acts 2:41).
Jesus, through his communities around the world, unlocks the gate to death and hades and lets his people out, just like the song says— “my chains are gone, I’ve been set free, My God, my Savior has ransomed me!”
Peter was a good guy. Peter was an important guy. Peter is a star (not the star) of Acts 1-11. But Peter was just a guy.
Jesus leads his church. Not by one old man in Rome, but by Word + Spirit in his churches around the world, under qualified leaders, through you, and me, and us. And together we build Jesus’ family—just like Peter himself told us. Jesus is the “living stone” (a synonym for “rock”) to whom we come to be built up into the spiritual household of the faithful (1 Pet 2:4-5).
Your leader is not an old man in a white robe who sits in a building financed over 500 years ago by extorting money from millions of peasants with stories of fraudulent “indulgences” that can buy them time off a purgatory that doesn’t exist, and who represents a false “gospel” that has no perfect peace—that doesn’t make you holy and perfect forever (Heb 10:10, 14). Instead, thank God (literally) that the confession and trust in Jesus is your rock. Jesus is your anchor. Jesus smashes open Hades’ gates. Jesus has the keys and loans them to his churches. Jesus, through his communities across the world, unlocks the door to death and Hades to let his people out of darkness and into the marvelous light.
[1] Many conservative Protestant scholars today believe that Peter is the rock. They often comment that Protestants only object to this interpretation because of what Rome does with the passage. See John Broadus’ wonderful commentary on the Gospel of Matthew for a representative example of this line of thinking: https://tinyurl.com/4my9e7y3.
I believe this is wrong, and I have not found the arguments convincing. The context strongly supports Option 3, and it is the best antecedent for the pronoun in ἐπὶ ταύτῃ τῇ πέτρᾳ οἰκοδομήσω μου τὴν ἐκκλησίαν. This is not an academic article, so I will leave the matter here!
As Easter draws near, the Christian calendar presents us with a sequence of world-altering events—Palm Sunday, Good Friday, Easter Sunday, and later Pentecost. Each day tells a part of the greatest story ever told, and it begins with Palm Sunday: the moment Jesus Christ enters Jerusalem, hailed as a king, setting into motion the fulfillment of divine promises.
In Luke 19:28–44, we find the account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. But to fully grasp what’s happening, we need to step back and understand the broader picture.
The cosmic civil war
From the beginning of Scripture, humanity has been caught in a cosmic civil war. In Genesis 1 and 2, God creates a perfect world and places humanity under his authority. But in Genesis 3, Adam and Eve reject that authority and choose to go their own way. Genesis 4 onward tells the story of how we all, by birth and by choice, follow that path.
Think of the analogy of the American civil war.
Our spiritual rebellion is something like that. Our first parents founded this “confederacy.” This means we’re each born, by default, as citizens of this confederacy. Just as the southern states illegally broke away from the federal government, we have each broken away from God. Each of us, spiritually speaking, is born a citizen of this rebellion—a fraudulent kingdom opposed to its rightful ruler.
So this is the situation:
We can remain in the Confederacy (which is going to lose this war), or
We can choose to rejoin the Union.
When Jesus’ ministry begins—when he says that the kingdom of heaven is at hand, and that everyone ought to repent and believe the gospel (Mk 1:15), he’s basically asking: “what’s it gonna be?”
When Jesus enters Jerusalem one week before Passover, his three years of ministry nearly finished, he is asking: “Here I am. I’m your king. Will you choose to love me and swear an oath of allegiance to me and end this stupid war?”
This question is much more important than the American civil war, because this is a cosmic war—your very soul is at stake.
Jesus and the donkey
The turning point comes on Palm Sunday. Jesus approaches Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, and he tells his disciples to find a donkey. This detail might seem odd, but it’s loaded with significance. Jesus is deliberately fulfilling the prophecy from Zechariah 9:9:
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey … (Zech 9:9).
A donkey is not exactly the image of power and might. It emphasizes Jesus’ humility—his lowly status. He isn’t a warrior. He comes not to crush enemies but to extend a hand of grace. He is the King foretold in ancient Scripture, arriving not with overwhelming force, but with a gentle invitation. He’s come to proclaim peace to the nations, and to free prisoners from a waterless pit because of the blood-oath of the new covenant he’s come to launch (Zech 9:10-11).
The donkey is not a trivial detail. It’s Jesus’ way of showing the kind of king He is: one who offers peace, not coercion.
Jesus and the palm branches
As Jesus enters the city, people begin to respond. Crowds gather, laying their cloaks on the road and waving palm branches—an ancient sign of honor and victory. They shout:
Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” (Luke 19:38; quoting Ps 118:26).
This isn’t spontaneous enthusiasm; it’s deliberate. They’re quoting Psalm 118, a psalm used in royal processions to the Jerusalem temple. This song is a well-known cultural cue, like the national anthem may be to us. They know what it means. They know what they’re singing and why. They’re acknowledging Jesus not just as a teacher or prophet, but as the rightful King of Israel. “[T]he whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen” (Lk 19:37). They recall His miracles: raising Lazarus, healing the sick, casting out demons. Everything Jesus has done points to this moment. He is the Messish and the king.
But not everyone is pleased.
Jesus weeps over Jerusalem
The Pharisees, standing in the crowd, hear the chants and understand their meaning. They demand that Jesus rebuke his followers. They know what this singing means—that Jesus is the fulfillment of all prophecy, the King who brings God’s kingdom. Jesus responds: “I tell you, if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out” (Luke 19:40)
But Jesus knows the celebration is less than honest. This same crowd is nowhere to be found later in the week, on Good Friday. So as he draws near to Jerusalem, Jesus does something unexpected: he weeps. “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes” (Luke 19:42).
Jesus offers peace with God. Peace for your soul. Peace for your heart. The apostle Paul wrote: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom 5:1). This is the same peace the angels offered on Christmas morning: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Lk 2:14). His favor rests on those who come in from the cold and choose to love him.
The King who comes in peace now mourns, knowing that many will reject him. Within days, the same crowds shouting “Hosanna” will yell “Crucify him!” (Mk 15:13). Though peace is within their reach, they will choose rebellion. The city that celebrates him will soon betray him.
The Cosmic Amnesty
After the American civil war, President Andrew Johnson offered amnesty to any Confederate who wanted it.
Johnson specifically says this amnesty was a pardon. His proclamation said that to suppress the rebellion, to convince people to be loyal to the true government once again, and to restore Federal authority, he was offering a pardon if you swore a particular oath and sincerely mean it. Pardon does not mean you’re innocent—it means you’re released from legal liability.
This is exactly what Jesus is offering. We’re so-called “citizens” of a fraudulent nation in rebellion against lawful authority. To suppress this rebellion, to convince people to be loyal to the true government once again, and to restore his divine authority, God is offering a pardon if you swear an oath to his Son—if you repent and believe the good news and sincerely mean it.
As Jesus looks down upon Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, he’s making an offer: “Swear an oath of allegiance from your heart, and let’s get this done.” But it does not happen. Jerusalem will soon say: “I’ll take Option B.”
So, what will we do? You can do nothing and remain in the Confederacy (which will lose this war), or you can choose to rejoin the Union.
The story of the transfiguration is one of the most remarkable in the gospels, yet its message is pretty simple: listen to Jesus! If you call yourself a Christian, you might think, “Well, of course! That’s obvious.” But listening to Jesus is harder than we admit. Too often, we listen to a fake version of Jesus that we’ve invented—a Jesus shaped by our own preferences, desires, or cultural influences.
A relationship with God begins with love. We love Him because He first loved us. From this love flows our desire to obey him, believe rightly, and do what his Word says. But what happens if we love the wrong Jesus? Well, if we follow a Jesus of our own making instead of the one revealed in scripture, our beliefs and actions will be all wrong. That’s why it’s important to listen to the real Jesus—the Jesus who is the Son of God, not the one we or our culture have reshaped to fit our own ideals.
Why the transfiguration?
When we read what happened in the run-up to the transfiguration, we learn that it was meant to cement Jesus’ claim to absolute authority in his people’s lives. It’s as if he’s saying: “You gotta listen to me! Not well-meaning but false teachers. Not your culture. Me. I’m kind of a big deal …”
This run-up shows us Jesus having an escalating authority controversy with scribes and Pharisees everywhere he goes. The disciples see and hear all this. For sake of space, we’ll parachute into Matthew 15, where Jesus tells some Pharisees and scribes that they’re hypocrites for emphasizing purity traditions over scripture: “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me” (Mt 15:8, quoting Isa 29:13). Jesus then privately compared them to invasive weeds his Father had not planted—the day would come when they’d be ripped out of the ground (Mt 15:13-14; cp. Mt 13:24-30, 36-43)!
We then follow Jesus as he speaks to a Canaanite woman who asks him to cast a demon out of her daughter. She calls him Lord. She recognizes him as the son of David—implicitly, as the king of Israel. He commends her faith (Mt 15:28), a huge irony because she (a non-Jewish person) should have trouble embracing the Jewish Messiah!
Jesus then miraculously feeds 4,000 people in the wilderness east of the Sea of Galilee—people who see his miracles and praise the God of Israel. These are probably not Jewish people (Mt 15:29-31; cp. Mk 7:31)! Matthew now immediately pivots to another confrontation with Jewish authorities who demand he prove his credentials by showing them a sign from heaven (Mt 16:1-4). After telling them off, Jesus warns his followers against the teaching (“the yeast”) of the scribes and Pharisees, whose doctrinal errors are like arsenic for the soul (Mt 16:5, 12).
It’s no accident that Matthew next shows us Jesus asking who people thought he was. Peter answered correctly (“You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” Mt 16:16), but was it an intellectual answer or a deeply held conviction? Was it a well-intentioned theory or a heart-felt reality? What did they think of these repeated authority clashes? Do they truly believe that Jesus is their authority?
These implicit questions are what the transfiguration was meant to answer.
What does the transfiguration mean?
The transfiguration tells us who Jesus truly is. They go up the mountain. Suddenly, without warning, Jesus is “transfigured” or “transformed” before their very eyes. It happens suddenly, surprisingly. Jesus’ face shines like the sun, his clothes a dazzling white. This is a terrifying metamorphosis! Moses and Elijah, representing the Law and the Prophets, suddenly appear with him, emphasizing Jesus’ fulfillment and embodiment of both (Mt 17:1-3). But the most striking moment comes when a bright cloud overshadows them, and God the Father speaks: “This is my Son, whom I love; with Him I am well pleased. Listen to Him!” (Mt 17:5).
God is saying: “Do what he says! Keep doing what he says! He is your authority. Hear him!”
Why does this matter? Because when we fail to listen to Jesus, we start listening to competing voices—false teachers, cultural narratives, or even our own misguided emotions. The transfiguration was God’s way of making it abundantly clear: Jesus is the one to whom we should listen above all else.
Why Do People Believe in Fake Jesuses?
Throughout history, people have reshaped Jesus to suit their own agendas. Sometimes this is done with good intentions, but the result is always a distortion of the truth. In Jesus’ day, culture had so re-shaped expectations that many expected a “legalistic Messiah.” In America, in the ante-bellum South, some Christians argued that chattel slavery was a good thing because God was using it as a means of evangelism to enslaved black people! Culture makes us create fakes Jesuses like playdough. It’s no accident that these fake Jesuses always follow whatever culture war battles happen to be raging at the time.
Here are a few modern examples of “fake Jesuses” that people often follow:
The homosexual Jesus – The lie that says Jesus has cast aside God’s laws about sexual ethics, and that unrepentant homosexual activity is just fine for Christians.
The transgender Jesus – The lie that says your body can be at odds with your soul—as if your “inner self” can be divorced from your physical body and its gender. We are a unity of body + soul, which is why the doctrine of bodily resurrection is key to the Christian story. You will be resurrected in the physical body with which you were born. There is no legitimate disconnect between your “inner self” and your body.
The Nationalistic Jesus – Many in America have intertwined faith with patriotism, as if Jesus’ mission were to uphold America’s greatness instead of establishing His Kingdom.
The Social Justice-Only Jesus – While Jesus absolutely cares about justice, some reduce him to merely a social activist, ignoring his central message of salvation and repentance.
You can go out today and find false churches that teach and promote each of these fake Jesuses. They’re all lies. They’re each a distortion, and when we follow them, we stop truly listening to the real Jesus. The real Jesus, as revealed in scripture, calls us to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Him (Matthew 16:24). That means (among other things) surrendering our own ideas about who he should be and allowing his Word to shape our understanding.
Listening to Jesus in Everyday Life
So how do we practically listen to Jesus? It’s not just about avoiding theological errors—it’s about daily obedience in both big and small ways. Here are a few examples of what it looks like to truly listen to Jesus:
Caring for the sick and elderly – Choosing to honor and care for aging parents instead of neglecting them.
Being a faithful spouse – Responding to difficulties in marriage with love and forgiveness rather than bitterness.
Serving others in your local church – Helping brothers and sisters in need in your church, even when it’s inconvenient.
Jesus is not a coffee table book
What happens when we don’t listen to the real Jesus? History and personal experience show us that failing to heed his voice leads to confusion, division, and spiritual decay. When we shape Jesus in our own image, we end up walking paths that lead us further from God, not closer to him. Even well-meaning people can fall into the trap of creating a fake version of Jesus that fits their lifestyle rather than allowing the real Jesus to transform their life. The apostle Paul tells us this is an evil age (Gal 1:3-4). The apostle John likens this ruined world, with its corrupt and seductive values, to Babylon–and tells it’s all going down one day (Rev 16-19). This world’s “truth” is, in fact, a pack of lies. Jesus tells us to listen to him.
For too many Christians, Jesus is like a decorative coffee table book—nice to have around, but not something they actually engage with. The transfiguration challenges us to move beyond a passive relationship with Jesus. He’s not just a figure to admire; He’s the King of our lives. If we truly listen to Him, it will shape how we think, believe, and live.
As we reflect on the Transfiguration, let’s take God’s words to heart: Listen to him. Not to the competing voices of culture, not to our own desires, but to the true Jesus who reveals himself in Scripture. Only by listening to him can we be transformed and live out the faith we profess.
The Sermon on the Mount is one of the most well-known teachings of Jesus, guiding Christians on how to live in an unholy world. In Matthew 5:2-16, Jesus focuses on how believers are to be a countercultural people (Mt 5:2-12), living as salt and light in the world (Mt 5:13-16). But what does that mean? And how exactly are we supposed to do that?
Understanding the Christian Counterculture
Jesus emphasizes that Christians are not meant to isolate themselves from the world but rather to live differently within it. Being salt and light means standing out—not in a showy or arrogant way, but in a way that draws others to the truth of the gospel. This means engaging with the world while remaining distinct from its values.
The key question, then, is: how do we live as a countercultural people? In Mathew 5:17-20, Jesus answers this by teaching that we must obey God’s law in the right way—with the right heart and the right motives.
First, he explains how he fulfills the law and the prophets.
Then, he explains our obligations to live according to the law n light of what he’s now done.
The rest of Matthew 5 is Jesus’ illustrations of this principle through everyday examples.
Jesus Fulfills the Law
Many misunderstand Jesus’ relationship to the Old Testament law. Some think He came to replace it with something entirely new, but He clarifies: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (Matthew 5:17).
But what does it mean for Jesus to “fulfill” the law? Essentially, Jesus gives the law its deeper and truer meaning. Instead of following it in a superficial, legalistic way—like the Pharisees did—Jesus calls His followers to obey it from the heart.
How Do We Read the Law Through the ‘Jesus Filter’?
The Bible is a story with a beginning, middle, and end. When we read the Old Testament, we must do so in light of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. This is the “Jesus filter”—understanding that everything in Scripture points to Him.
Here is what this looks like:
For example, the sacrificial laws in Leviticus can seem tedious, but they make sense when we realize they were all pointing to Jesus, the ultimate sacrifice. Just like a child might look forward to getting a bicycle, only to later realize that a car is even better, the Old Testament sacrifices (i.e., the ceremonial laws) were placeholders until Christ, the true fulfillment, came.
Three Types of Old Testament Laws
Ceremonial Laws – These included sacrifices, purity laws, and temple rituals. Jesus fulfills these laws by becoming the ultimate sacrifice. Since His death and resurrection, these laws no longer apply in a direct way.
Civil Laws – These governed daily life in ancient Israel, from property disputes to social justice. Since the Old Testament kingdom no longer exists in the same way, these laws don’t directly apply today, though we can learn principles from them.
Moral Laws – These include commandments about right and wrong, like prohibitions against murder, adultery, and lying. These remain in effect because they are rooted in God’s unchanging character.
Because the new covenant has fulfilled or re-shaped the first two categories of the old covenant law, Jesus now pivots in the rest of Matthew 5 to focus solely on moral laws and their relevance for today. He says: “Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 5:19).
What does this mean?
Obeying the Law in the Right Way
Jesus warns that it is possible to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. If we simply follow rules without love or genuine devotion, our obedience is meaningless. This was the problem with the Pharisees, who were obsessed with external appearances while missing the heart of God’s law. They wrongly saw the old covenant law as a means of salvation—“I do this for God, and he will do that for me!” This produces a very self-righteous attitude.
Jesus says, “Unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:20). That doesn’t mean we need to follow even more rules than they did—it means our obedience should come from a place of love, not just obligation. We obey God because we love him and have already been made right with God, not to “get” righteousness as a reward at the end of the rainbow.
For example, the commandment: “You shall have no other gods before me” is easy to affirm in theory. But if we examined our lives, what would our actions say? Do we prioritize God above all else? Or do we let other things—our jobs, entertainment, relationships—take first place in our hearts? There is a massive difference between surface conformity and heartfelt obedience. True obedience isn’t just about external actions but about having a heart transformed by love for God.
Faith Expressing Itself Through Love
The Apostle Paul summed it up in Galatians 5:6: “The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.” This means that our obedience to God should not come from fear or duty but from a genuine love for Him. Just as a heartfelt note from a loved one is more meaningful than a generic greeting card from your insurance agent, our devotion to God should be personal and sincere.
Jesus’ teachings in the rest of Matthew 5 give practical examples of this principle. He takes the external commands (like “Do not murder” and “Do not commit adultery”) and shows their deeper meaning. It’s not enough just to avoid murder—we must also guard against anger and hatred. It’s not enough just to avoid adultery—we must also keep our hearts pure.
A Call to Authentic Christianity
Being a Christian counterculture means more than just appearing religious. It means having a heart genuinely transformed by Christ. True righteousness flows from within—it’s not about keeping a checklist of rules but about loving God so deeply that obedience becomes natural.
This is the challenge Jesus sets before us. Are we simply following religious rules, or are we truly living as salt and light in the world? Do we obey because we have to, or because we want to?
Jesus calls us to follow Him from the heart, to let our love for Him shape every aspect of our lives. When we do this, we don’t just become religious people—we become a living testimony of God’s grace and truth.
May we each examine our hearts and ask God to help us live out our faith in a way that is truly countercultural—not just in appearance, but in spirit and truth.
This is a series of brief devotional articles on The Orthodox Catechism (“OC”),a Particular Baptist document written by Baptist pastor Hercules Collins in 1680. Read the series.
When confronted with a moral failure, our instinct is to minimize or to blame-shift. Yes, we shouldn’t have said this, but it only happened because you said that. No, we haven’t quite gotten around to fixing the car like we promised, but that’s because you keep using it every Saturday. Although these are silly little examples, the pattern holds true for the larger things.
Jesus summed up the law and the prophets under two heads; (a) love God with everything you have—heart, soul, mind, and strength—and (b) love your neighbor as yourself (Mt 22:37-40). How well do we follow these summary principles? The catechism question before us now is like a mirror that strips away all our self-righteousness. It leaves us, as it were, ashamed and defenseless, alone with the truth about ourselves:
Question 5: Can you live up to all this perfectly?
Answer 5: No. I have a natural tendency to hate God[1] and my neighbor.[2]
Now the minimizing bit comes into play.
Living up to all this perfectly? “Well, nobody is perfect …” we muse. But, compared to the other guy, I’m not in bad shape at all.
A natural tendency? Well, again, nobody is perfect.
Hating God and our neighbor? Hate is a strong word. I love God, and I don’t really hate anybody.
Unfortunately, the minimizing doesn’t work here. Holiness isn’t graded on a curve. In the same way that a woman either is or is not pregnant, and a man either is or is not a father, you either are or are not holy and righteous. To be “holy” is to be pure and perfect—without moral spot or blemish. To be “righteous” means to be morally upright in accordance with God’s standards. The catechism answer says you’ve missed that boat. We all have.
In what way have we missed that boat?
Because we all have a natural tendency to hate God and our neighbor. This tendency is natural because it’s innate, it’s our default setting, it isn’t a learned behavior—it’s just the way we are. The apostle Paul, a Jewish man, pointed out that even Jews had no advantage with God on this point: “Do we have any advantage? Not at all! For we have already made the charge that Jews and Gentiles alike are all under the power of sin” (Rom 3:9).
Paul’s words are important and you should read them again. We’re “under the power of” this malevolent force called sin, which is basically a contagion or disease of pervasive selfishness and narcissism. Because sin is selfishness—not simply “self-love” but more like “self-worship at all costs”[3]—it has a marvelous capacity for self-deception and self-righteousness. We think we’re fine, but we’re not. This is why God must rip the veil away from our hearts and minds so the gospel light can shine in and do its work (2 Cor 4:3-6).
Now we turn to hate. Yes, it’s a strong word. It means something like “extreme enmity” and “active hostility.”[4] Who wants to fess up to that? But lest we assume we have plenty of wiggle-room here, Jesus takes a sledgehammer to our rationalizations. God’s standards aren’t about externals—they’re about internal affections that show in an external way. This means that anger, contempt, and ridicule are the same as murder because they all come from an inner hostility and ill-will towards that other person (Mt 5:21-22). Likewise, adultery isn’t simply the sexual act but also the sexual thought (Mt 5:27-28).
What the catechism is driving at is that, in our hearts, we do not love God and our neighbor perfectly. We fail here because sin is that pervasive selfishness and narcissism that naturally reigns in our hearts and minds. And, because holiness (like pregnancy and fatherhood) is a “yes or no” status, that means we’ve each fallen short.
So, that’s where we are. It brings us round to Questions 2 and 3—the law of God tells us how great our sin and misery are. This naturally prompts a new question: why would God make us to be in such a terrible condition? If a manufacturer makes a bad product, it issues a recall and fixes the problem. Why hasn’t God issued a recall on us? Did he make a mistake with us? Is he holding us responsible for his own design flaws? We turn to these questions next time.
[2] Gen 6:5; Jer 17:9; Rom 7:23-24, 8:7; Eph 2:1-3; Titus 3:3.
[3] Augustus H. Strong is particularly good here: “We hold the essential principle of sin to be selfishness. By selfishness we mean not simply the exaggerated self-love which constitutes the antithesis of benevolence, but that choice of self as the supreme end which constitutes the antithesis of supreme love to God” (Systematic Theology (Philadelphia: American Baptist Publication Society, 1907), 567).
[4]Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, s.v. “hate,” verb, sense 1.
This article argues that the Roman Catholic Church (“Rome”) is wrong about the sufficiency of Christ’s atonement. In fact, she is so incorrect that her teaching on this matter is grave error that distorts the gospel.
By “Christ’s atonement,” we mean the action by which Christ’s vicarious death reconciles us to God and restores fellowship with him. The dispute here is about the sufficiency of this atonement. Did Christ atone for the consequences of all our sins? Is his atonement permanent or conditional?
Some issues are “in-house” debates—things Christians disagree about “inside the family.” But, some matters are serious enough that they rise to another level because they present two different versions of the Christian faith. The sufficiency of Christ’s atonement is one of those issues. If Christ’s sacrifice does not fully purify, fully reconcile, fully satisfy divine justice for his people once for all and forever, then that means Christ does not “save forever those who come to God through him,” (Heb 7:25, NASB). The word “forever” at Hebrews 7:25 means for all time,[1]or perhaps completely and absolutely.[2] Because Jesus is a priest forever, the rescue he gives his people is total, complete, and forever.
NOTE: This article is a significant abridgement of a larger essay which you can read here. You can consult the larger article for extended discussions of each point.
The bottom line
Rome teaches that Christ’s atonement (a) does not make full satisfaction[3] for all his people’s sins, and so (b) does not make believers holy and perfect forever. Instead, Rome teaches that when a believer commits sins after baptism, a stain affixes which makes her unholy (though still in a state of grace if she has not committed mortal sin), and so she herself must make satisfaction to God for the temporal consequences of these sins. We make this satisfaction to God “through the merits of Christ.”[4]
In other words, a believer’s purity before God is conditional—it depends on our actions. For the temporal consequences of these sins, we can either pay God now by way of the sacrament of penance,[5] or we can pay him later by suffering in purgatory to make satisfaction for our sins.
On the contrary, Hebrews 6:13-10:22 teaches that Jesus is the great high priest who made one single, all-sufficient sacrifice that makes each believer holy and perfect forever. As part of the journey of progressive holiness, God does discipline believers who commit sins, but a believer’s legal purity before God is perfect and complete forever at the time of salvation.[6]
Zooming out to the bigger picture, Rome is wrong because, compared to the old covenant system, her false teaching presents us with a new covenant that isn’t better than the old one. Both consist of a sacrificial liturgy and a band of priests offering repeated sacrifices with temporary atoning effect. Therefore, Rome’s teaching on the sufficiency of Christ’s atonement is a lateral move, not a promotion, and that’s why it’s incorrect. Because the argument from Hebrews 6:13-10:22 is that the new covenant has a better high priest, who brings believers a better hope, built on better promises, who makes a better atonement for his people, Rome’s teaching about the atonement is wrong.
Different sources and methods
However, we have a roadblock to overcome. Roman Catholics and Protestants don’t answer religious questions the same way because they have different authorities.
Rome teaches that there is a “living transmission” from the Holy Spirit, called tradition (Catechism of the Catholic Church, “CCC,” Art. 78), that exists alongside scripture as a complementary vessel of divine revelation.
Protestants generally hold to what one writer has called suprema scriptura, which means “the Bible as the supreme or highest channel of religious authority.”[7] Under scripture’s authority, in an interpretive dialogue, are church tradition, reason, and personal religious experience in the divine-human encounter.[8]
The issue of authority deserves serious discussion,[9] but we will leave that for another time. For now, it’s enough to say that because Rome teaches that both scripture and tradition flow from “the same divine well-spring” (CCC, Art. 80), her teaching must find scriptural support.[10] In the matter of Christ’s atonement, it does not. I urge Roman Catholics to see if scripture squares with their church’s tradition. If it doesn’t, then you should leave Rome.
Why Rome is wrong
God has revealed his truth in revelation, and grave error is false teaching that leads people away from that revelation. Rome’s understanding of Christ’s atonement is grave error because it contradicts scriptural teaching and negatively affects your understanding of salvation and the gospel.[11] It teaches that Christ’s atonement does not fully purify believers and make them holy and perfect forever at the moment of salvation. Specifically:
Rome falsely teaches that there are “temporal consequences” from sins that Christ’s sacrifice does not fully fix—debts of temporal punishment still remain for sins committed after baptism.[12] The truth is that, in the new and better covenant relationship with God by faith in Christ which began at Pentecost, God promises: “I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more,” (Heb 8:12).
Rome wrongly teaches that, after death, believers may need to be cleansed and purified from the temporal consequences of sins to have the holiness necessary to enter heaven. The truth is that scripture says believers have already been reconciled to God and have peace with him, because he has declared them righteous (i.e., justified) by means of faith in Jesus (Rom 5:1, 10). His “once for all” sacrifice makes us holy already (Heb 10:10).[13]
Rome falsely teaches a fictitious system of penance to restore the state of grace ex opere operato as a so-called “second plank of salvation,”and teaches a non-existent treasury of merit from which priests and bishops may apply merit to remit temporal punishment for sins. The truth is that “by one sacrifice [Jesus] has made perfect forever those who are being made holy,” (Heb 10:14). This means this elaborate system is un-biblical and blasphemous to the sufficiency of Christ’s work.
Eight principles from Hebrews 6:13 to 10:22
Principle 1 (Hebrews 6:13-20): Because Jesus is a different and better priest who represents his people forever, he’ll always keep the “anchor of hope” fastened to God for those he reconciles. This suggests Christ’s atonement is effective for his people forever and always.
Principle 2 (Hebrews 7:1-3): Jesus is the king of righteousness, the king of peace, and is the “Son of God” because he shares the same nature and attributes as Yahweh—just like Melchisedec. This is why he is a better priest, and therefore the new covenant relationship with God is better, too. This suggests Christ’s atonement is also better.
Principle 3 (Hebrews 7:18-19, 10:19-22): The old covenant law never made anybody perfect—it never permanently purified or cleansed believers. So, God repealed it and cleared the way for a better hope, by which every believer draws near to God. This better hope is Jesus’ better priesthood, triggered by Jesus’ better sacrifice.
Principle 4 (Heb 7:11-17, 20-28): Because Jesus is a priest forever, he rescues his people completely and permanently, and this means he always intercedes for and protects his people. Jesus’ sacrifice was “once for all” and “forever,” and its atonement needs no re-application. It’s a permanent marker, not a pencil.
Principle 5 (Hebrews 8): The old covenant is obsolete because the better covenant has come, backed by a better priest, based on a better sacrifice, bringing better promises, securing a better arrangement for God’s relationship with his people.
Principle 6 (Hebrews 9:1-15): Jesus’ sacrifice is the concrete reality to which the old covenant sacrifices pointed. He’s set his people free from sins, has already paid the full ransom price to our kidnapper Satan, and the liberation he achieves for believers is everlasting and forever.
Principle 8 (Hebrews 10:1-18): Jesus’ sacrifice has already made believers holy once for all and forever, and it has already made us perfect forever. Therefore, he will never, ever consider our sins again, and sacrifice for sins is no longer necessary. It is all finished.
The new covenant isn’t a lateral move
In the job world, a “lateral move” is one where you get a new job, but the pay and duties are similar. It isn’t a demotion, but it isn’t a promotion either. The new covenant isn’t like that. It isn’t a lateral move. It’s better.
Yet, Rome believes that Christ’s atonement is essentially a lateral move from the old covenant because it teaches (a) the conditional purification of the believer, (b) resulting in potential temporal consequences for sin which Christ’s sacrifice did not cover, (c) requiring the probable need to suffer in purgatory to satisfy and atone for these temporal punishments, and (d) the existence of indulgences which waive the temporal punishment of our sins by debiting a so-called treasury of merit.
But the bible is a story that moves forward.
It begins with creation in Genesis 1-2,
catalogs the fall in Genesis 3,
and then to the divine rescue through Christ the king that God promised throughout the old covenant, foreshadowed in the temple liturgy and sacrifices, and fulfilled in the story of Jesus in the Gospels,
and finally, it concludes with the defeat of evil and the restoration of all things in Revelation 18-22.
But Rome says that Christ’s atonement does not make satisfaction for his people’s sins once for all and forever—so where is better hope by which we draw near to God (Heb 7:18)? Rome’s system offers a new covenant that’s stuck in neutral—one that is not better than the old covenant. Her story has run aground and hasn’t moved forward. Rome has exchanged a flat Diet Coke for a stale Pepsi. It’s a lateral move, not a promotion.
Hebrews 6:13-10:22 vaporizes all this. Rome offers nothing “new” or “better” in terms of practical effects. It isn’t a promotion, and that’s the bottom-line reason why it’s false, and so Rome’s teaching about the sufficiency of Christ’s atonement fails.
The truth is that: “when this priest had offered for all time one sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God, and since that time he waits for his enemies to be made his footstool. For by one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy,” (Heb 10:14).
[1]BDAG, s.v., “παντελής,” sense 2, 754; see RSV, NRSV, NASB.
[3] This means “[r]eparation or compensation for a wrong or a debt incurred,” (Millard J. Erickson, The Concise Dictionary of Christian Theology, rev. ed. (Wheaton: Crossway, 2001), s.v., “satisfaction,” 176).
[5] In fact, Rome says, if we believe that our penitential works are nothing more than the faith by which we grasp that Christ has already made satisfaction for our sins, then we’re damned to hell (Tanner (ed.) “Trent,” Session 14, canon 12, in Decrees, 2:713).
[6] Augustus H. Strong’s definition of “sanctification” captures the Protestant interpretation very well: “Sanctification is that continuous operation of the Holy Spirit, by which the holy disposition imparted in regeneration is maintained and strengthened.” Strong explained: “Salvation is something past, something present, and something future; a past fact, justification; a present process, sanctification; a future consummation, redemption and glory,” (Systematic Theology (Old Tappan: Revell, 1907), 869). Emphases added.
[7] James Leo Garrett Jr., Systematic Theology: Biblical, Historical, and Evangelical, Fourth Edition., vol. 1 (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2014), 206.
[8] Garret, Systematic, 2.206; Thomas Oden, Life in the Spirit: Systematic Theology, vol. 1 (San Francisco: HarperOne, 1987), 330-44.
[9] For example, Bishop James Gibbons wrote: “… the Church is the divinely appointed Custodian and Interpreter of the Bible. For, her office of infallible Guide were superfluous, if each individual could interpret the Bible for himself … God never intended the Bible to be the Christian’s rule of faith, independently of the living authority of the Church,” (Faith of Our Fathers, 10th rev. ed. (New York: John Murphy & Co., 1879), 94).
[10] One doctor of the church declared: “Holy Scripture is in such sort the rule of the Christian faith that we are obliged by every kind of obligation to believe most exactly all that it contains, and not to believe anything which may be ever so little contrary to it,” (Francis de Sales, The Catholic Controversy, in Library of Francis de Sales, vol. III, 3rd ed., trans. by Canon Mackey (London: Burns & Oats, Limited, 1909), 88 (Part II, Article 1, Ch. 1).
[11] “The concept of heresy is grounded in the conviction that there exists one revealed truth, and other opinions are intentional distortions or denials of that truth. Absent such conviction, ‘heresy’ becomes little more than bigoted persecution. But the Christian belief in revealed truth means that heresy becomes not merely another opinion, but false teaching that leads people away from God’s revelation” (Daniel J. Treier and Walter Elwell (eds.), Evangelical Dictionary of Theology, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2017), s.v. “heresy,” 377-78).
Millard Erickson offers up this definition: “A belief or teaching that contradicts Scripture and Christian theology,” (Concise Dictionary, s.v. “heresy,” 88).
[12] Norman P. Tanner, S.J. (ed)., “Trent,” Session 6, Canon 30, in Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, vol. 2 (Washington, D.C., Georgetown University Press, 1990), 2:681.
[13] The verb is present tense-form, and it can be rendered as “are being made holy” or “have been made holy.” Either way, Jesus’ once-for-all sacrifice is the means by which (διὰ τῆς προσφορᾶς) the holiness happens.
This is a series of brief devotional articles on The Orthodox Catechism (“OC”),a Particular Baptist document written by Baptist pastor Hercules Collins in 1680. Read the series.
No matter who you are, who your parents are, how much education you have (or don’t have), this one thing is true—God’s law tells us that we’re each in very great trouble (see Answer 3). The obvious thing is to figure out how to fix this problem.
In every trouble, there’s usually some way out. We might not like the way out, but it’s there. Money troubles? Slash the household budget to the bone (and so on). So, what does God’s law tell us we can do to fix this problem between us and God that makes our situation so miserable?
Question 4: What does God’s law require of us?
Answer 4: Christ teaches us this in summary in Matthew 22:37-40: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.[1] This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.[2] All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
We can use the law of Moses in at least two different (and legitimate) ways.
The first way is for believers (including Moses’ original audience), and it’s the most natural way—we read the commandments through a prism of loving obedience. We love him because he first loved us (1 Jn 4:10, 19), so we do what he says because we love him. This is why Moses so often emphasized obedience from the heart (Deut 4:9, 5:29, 6:6, 10:12-16, 11:13, 11:18, 26:16, 29:18, 30:2, 30:6, 30:10, 30:14, 30:17).
The second way is for unbelievers—to hold aloft the law as a condemnatory mirror into the soul.[3] It says this, and this, and that—but you don’t do that, so what does that mean? It means you’re a criminal. It means you’re in very great trouble. It means you need to be rescued.
The apostle Paul used this second strategy in his letter to the Galatian churches to remind them that legalism is a dead end (Gal 3:10-14). If you want to try legalism, Paul suggested, then try interpreting the law that way and see how well you do! The catechism uses Jesus’ words in a similar way:
You aren’t perfect, because you break his law.
Because you break his law, you’re guilty of a capital crime.
Because you’re guilty of a capital crime, God will sentence you appropriately.
You may object now: “What exactly have I done to break God’s law?”
Well, that’s why Jesus summed up the entire point of the Mosaic law with those two headings; (a) love God with everything you have, and (b) love your neighbor as yourself. The entire law hangs on those two commandments. You don’t have to grade your thoughts and actions on a curve. You just have to ask yourself:
Do I love God with everything I have? Heart? Mind? Soul? All my might?
Do I always love God with this intensity?
Do I love my neighbor as much as I love myself?
Do I always love my neighbors with this intensity?
Of course, the answer is no. This proves that you are indeed in very great trouble with God (Questions 2-3). You’re supposed to love God and your neighbor, but you fail. This suggests you can’t solve this problem yourself—but is that true? Is all hope lost? We’ll address that question next time.
This is a series of brief devotional articles on The Orthodox Catechism (“OC”), a Particular Baptist document written by Baptist pastor Hercules Collins in 1680. It’s basically the Heidelberg Catechism (first ed. 1563) with Baptist flavor and a few other additions. Read the series.
If the only comfort we have in this life is that we belong—both body and soul, in life and death—to our most faithful Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (see the discussion on Q1), then …
Question 2: What must you know to live and die in the joy of this comfort?
Answer 2: Three things: first, how great my sin and misery are;[1] second, how I am set free from all my sins and misery;[2] third, how I am to thank God for such deliverance.[3]
Relationship with Christ is the most important thing in your life. Everything we accomplish or hold onto as an anchor will fade away in time. James A. Baker III was a hugely important figure in American political life, but how many today even know who he is, let alone that he helped negotiate an end to the Cold War?[4] Solomon wrote: “No one remembers the former generations, and even those yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow them,” (Ecc 1:11).
But the comfort from the Lord that you belong to him will never change. James Baker was one of former President George H.W. Bush’s best friends. The very day he died, Bush told Baker that he was looking forward to going to heaven.[5] After everything he’d accomplished in life—a decorated World War II pilot, politician, Director of the CIA, chair of the Republican National Committee, two-term Vice-President, one-term President—it all narrowed to one great longing: to go to heaven.
But how do get this comfort? How do we make it our own? Scripture teaches that we must realize and own three things:
First, that we’re in very great trouble.
We’re not righteous, which is a churchy way of saying we’re not “right” with God. We’re criminals in his eyes (“sin is lawlessness,” 1 Jn 3:4), and that’s a problem. We’re all “under the power of sin” (Rom 3:9), which means criminality infects us to the core, like so many rotten apples. This doesn’t mean we’re all cartoon serial killers, but it does mean that we’re all “criminal” in that we don’t naturally love God and so we don’t follow his law. The apostle John explained: “If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us,” (1 Jn 1:10).
So, there’s that.
Second, we must realize that God has provided the way out.
We can’t solve the sin problem, because we’re all products of “the system.” The apostle Paul depicts sin as a malevolent force that rules over us and this world. We can’t break out. So, there must be somebody from outside, somebody who isn’t captured and infected by this world, to blaze a trail and take us out of here (Rom 6:16-18). That person is Jesus. More on that later.
On the night he was betrayed, Jesus told his heavenly father that “eternal life” meant: “that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent,” (Jn 17:3). To “know,” in this context, means a personal relationship or friendship.[6] We must enter into relationship with God the Father, through Christ the Son, by means of the Holy Spirit. We do that by responding to the good news he has brought to the world (Mk 1:15). “Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved,” (Acts 4:12).
Third, we must be thankful to God for our liberation.
This means that, if God has truly rescued us from our great sin and misery, it’ll show up in our lives. There will be fruit. We show God we’re thankful by living for him (Rom 12:1-2). Our light shines in the world, so people know we belong to Christ (Mt 5:16). The apostle Paul wrote: “offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness. For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace,” (Rom 6:13-14). If God has brought us from spiritual darkness and “into the light,” then we ought to live like children of the light (Eph 5:8-10)!
The apostle Peter tells us that God has chosen his people for salvation. He made us to be royal priests who represent him to the world. He’s taken believers from the four corners of the earth and given us a spiritual citizenship that eclipses our earthly passports into deep shadow. Together, we’re God’s special possession, and our job is to “declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light,” (1 Pet 2:9).
If all this is true, then we prove it by the way we think and live. We have spiritual fruit. This is the concrete expression of thankfulness, and it all stems from grateful love— “We love because he first loved us,” (1 Jn 4:19).
The catechism goes on to explain each of these three things in more detail. But, know this—(a) you must know you’re in terrible trouble, (b) you must enter into a personal relationship with the Father, through the Son, by means of the Spirit, and (c) true faith is proven by a life of thankfulness to God.
A “catechism” is a question and answer book about the basics of the Christian faith. It’s useful for believers who need reminders, for new believers who need to know about their new faith, and for outsiders to learn what the Christian story is all about. The Baptist Orthodox Catechism (ca. 1680) begins with a very practical question:[1]
Question 1: What is your only comfort in life and in death?
Answer 1: That both in soul and body, [2] whether I live or die,[3] I am not my own, but belong wholly to my most faithful Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.[4]
By his most precious blood fully satisfying for all my sins,[5] he has delivered me from all the power of the devil,[6] and so preserves me,[7] that without the will of my heavenly Father not so much as a hair may fall from my head.[8]
Yes, all things must serve for my safety.[9]And so, by his Spirit also, he assures me of everlasting life,[10] and makes me ready and prepared,[11] so that from now on I may live to him.
The only comfort a Christian has is that she belongs to the Lord. It’s reassuring to know that we aren’t alone. That we are not left to fend for ourselves. That we have a heavenly Father who is all-powerful, clothed in majesty and holiness, who cares for us. No matter whether you’re alive or dead, your entire being (which is more than your physical body or your immortal soul—it’s both) belongs to your faithful Lord and rescuer Jesus Christ.
This might seem strange—why is it comforting to cede your own self-government to God’s royal authority?
Because Christians believe that Jesus has liberated from a malevolent and evil kidnapper. This isn’t a storybook fable—Jesus really and truly rescued us from the kingdom of darkness. He paid for our crimes by means of his own death as a vicarious sacrifice, delivering us from Satan’s grasp (see Q33). Jesus put it like this: “When a strong man, fully armed, guards his own house, his possessions are safe. But when someone stronger attacks and overpowers him, he takes away the armor in which the man trusted and divides up his plunder,” (Lk 11:21-22). Jesus is the stronger man. He’s tied Satan up and tossed him onto the lawn, and he’s now going through the house and setting the captives free from the dungeon inside.
This is why we love Jesus and are loyal to him in return (see Q31). This is why we worship Jesus as our king (Dan 7:11-13).[12] The scriptures are about God’s plan through the people of Israel (i.e., King Jesus) to fix the world, to fix us, and to create a family he can love and which loves him back. Jesus is the king who has come to (a) reveal to us that he’s the one has come to fulfill God’s covenant promises and make this happen, (b) to reconcile us to God, and then (c) to rule over our lives now and over all creation later. Jesus is our revealer, reconciler, and ruler.[13]
He watches over us with kindness, holiness, and justice. Nothing is beyond his control. Nothing takes him by surprise. This means we’re safe in his care. Everything that happens is for our good—whether it appears that way or not. Like any good Father, God disciples us. He trains us. He wants us to go the right way. Other times, he makes choices that are best for us even if we cannot understand all this in the here and now. More on that later (see Q26, 27).
Because we belong to King Jesus, he gives us assurance of eternal life. The true Christian responds to his kindness and grace with loving obedience—we love him because he first loved us (1 Jn 4:19).
The most basic impulse of the true Christian is to give yourself to Jesus—to trust him and follow him (see Q91-6). In other words, your only comfort in life and death is that you belong—both body and soul—to your faithful savior Jesus Christ.
[1] This is the beginning of a series of brief devotional articles on The Orthodox Catechism (“OC”),a Particular Baptist document written by Baptist pastor Hercules Collins in 1680. It’s basically the Heidelberg Catechism (first ed. 1563) with Baptist flavor and a few other additions. It is rightly famous tool for doctrinal and devotional instruction in Baptist churches. In the congregation where I serve as pastor, we discuss one question from the OC each week during the worship service.
There are many copies of the OC online, and some are better than others. You can find a true copy online here. You can buy a printed copy here.
Daniel 7 has the same message as Daniel 2. But, while Daniel 2 is more of a summary, Daniel 7 expands that message by way of more fantastic visions. It’s like how Genesis 2 expands on Genesis 1. Curiously, Daniel doesn’t write in chronological order—Daniel 7 returns us to Babylon on the eve of the Persian conquest, but the reader just finished Daniel 6 which shows us Darius the Mede after the conquest!
First, a word about how to interpret prophecy. As we sit comfortably—far removed from the anxious times in which God revealed these visions to Daniel—we can make a mistake. We can obsess over unimportant details and miss the larger point. God didn’t give us these incredible visions so we’d bog down in irrelevant questions. Some enthusiasts teach that Daniel’s visions “provide[] the most comprehensive and detailed prophecy of future events to be found anywhere in the Old Testament.”[1] Perhaps, but that isn’t Daniel’s point or God’s point. This turns Daniel into fodder for abstract speculation, which as far from the point as the east is from the west. Obsessive focus on, say, the identity of the four beasts might be interesting and profitable, but they’re not the point. God gave this vision to Daniel as hope for desperate people. So what’s the point of this vision?
Daniel’s angelic guide tells us plainly: “16So he told me and gave me the interpretation of these things: 17The four great beasts are four kings that will rise from the earth. 18But the holy people of the Most High will receive the kingdom and will possess it forever—yes, for ever and ever,” (Dan 7:16-18). The point is that God wins. He wins big. And even the most fearsome nations will fall before Him. Whatever else you take away from Daniel 7, make sure you get that right.[2]
The dream (Daniel 7:1-14)
Daniel 7 easily divides into two sections; (a) the dream (Dan 7:1-14), and (b) the interpretation (Dan 7:15-28).
First, here is the cast of characters from the vision with my identification for each:
Beast 1: the lion with wings. This is Babylon/Nebuchadnezzar.
Beast 2: the lopsided bear. This is Persia—the nation in which Esther lived, and from which Cyrus let the Jewish people return home, etc.
Beast 3: a leopard with four heads. This is Alexander the Great and the kingdoms belonging to the four generals who succeeded him after his death.
Beast 4: iron teeth + ten horns + one little horn. This is the Roman Empire in three derivative phases; (a) the historical kingdom of Jesus’ day, (b) the interim period of nations which in some way derive from the historical Roman Empire, and (c) the kingdom of antichrist of the last days, which grows from among the nations of the interim phase.[3] Some teachers think only “liberals” deny that the fourth kingdom is Rome, but this cruel and incorrect.[4]
Ancient of Days: God the Father.
Son of Man: Jesus—this is his favorite way to describe Himself.
Second, forget the first three kingdoms. Daniel is simply not interested in the first three kingdoms in this vision. He only asks the angel for clarification about the fourth (Dan 7:19-20). So, the first three kingdoms are not relevant. I believe the “four beasts” in Daniel 7 are parallel to the four-fold statue at Daniel 2, which means the first kingdom remains Babylon (Dan 2:36-28; cp. Dan 7:2-4, 17-18). A different vision addresses the second and third visions (Daniel 8), but they are not the issue here. So, this article will not address the first three kingdoms at all.
Third, focus on the fourth kingdom. The remainder of the article will do just that.
The fourth kingdom is “terrifying and frightening and very powerful.” Like the character Jaws from The Spy Who Loved Me, it has “large iron teeth.” It crushes and gobbles up everything in its path. It also has ten horns (Dan 7:7), about which the angelic guide later explains.
This focus on four kingdoms doesn’t mean they are the only four nation-states that matter in human history. Instead, it suggests there are four kingdoms that will have a particular impact on the people of Israel. God could have discussed a particular Chinese dynasty, but it would have meant nothing to Daniel. In context, this is a message of hope to the people of Israel as they’re in exile in a foreign land. China would have meant nothing to them. This indicates our interpretive options are limited to a nation which has relevance to the people of Israel.
As Daniel stares at this awful creature, pondering the meaning of the ten horns, “there before me was another horn, a little one, which came up among them; and three of the first horns were uprooted before it,” (Dan 7:8). This “little horn” emerges from among the ten—it is not an outsider. Whatever this “little horn” is, it doesn’t represent a revolution from without. Instead, it signals the gradual rise of a new power-center from within. This last horn “had eyes like the eyes of a human being and a mouth that spoke boastfully,” (Dan 7:8). The angelic guide will soon elaborate, but we get the impression of intelligence, shrewdness, and arrogance.[5]
As Daniel looks on in horror, he spies another vision in the heavens above. This one seems parallel to the rise of the fourth beast—it takes place at the same time. “[T]hrones were set in place, and the Ancient of Days took his seat,” (Dan 7:9). This is a solemn, choreographed event. The Ancient of Days has snow white hair, a flaming throne with wheels ablaze, a river of molten fire flows from the chair, and “thousands upon thousands attended him; ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him. The court was seated, and the books were opened,” (Dan 7:10). This is the same imagery Ezekiel used (Ezek 1), and that the apostle John later re-purposes (Rev 5:11, 20:11-15). In other words, the Ancient of Days is God, and the setting is a courtroom.
Then, like a person watching two screens at once, Daniel looks back to the first vision “because of the boastful words the horn was speaking,” (Dan 7:11). He keeps looking “until the beast was slain and its body destroyed and thrown into the blazing fire,” (Dan 7:11). Its doom is like the antichrist’s fate in John’s apocalypse. Jesus tosses the antichrist into the lake of fire at His second coming (Rev 19:20).
Daniel now looks back at the second “screen” depicting the heavenly courtroom. He sees “one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven,” (Dan 7:13). “Son of man” is a woodenly translated phrase which means “person” or “human being.” Jesus often identifies Himself as this mysterious human figure in the context of His triumphant return to this sphere (Mt 16:27, 24:30; Lk 17:30). Once the Son of man arrives, He receives His eternal kingdom: “His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed,” (Dan 7:14). Jesus is the rock from Daniel 2 which smashes the evil kingdom and fills the whole earth (Dan 2:34-35, 44-45).
Christians have strong opinions about when this happens—at His ascension or later? The evidence suggests both are correct.
Jesus hints that He arrives at the holy court immediately after His death (i.e., at His ascension).[6] He tells the Sanhedrin that “from now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven,” (Mt 26:64). Jesus says His “arrival” to rule His kingdom will be a reality from here on out, and this “seeing” is repetitive—“from here on out, you’ll be seeing …”[7] That is, the Sanhedrin will be seeing Jesus rule and reign “from now on.” The irrefutable evidence will be that nobody can stop the good news about His kingdom. This is the comforting vision Stephen saw just before the Sanhedrin murdered him (Acts 7:55-56)—meaning it’s a reality right now.
Yet, in Daniel’s vision, the Son of man arrives in the divine courtroom to receive His kingdom after or as the terrible beast is slain—suggesting an enthronement in the last days. This is the future great arrival for which the apostle Paul waits (1 Thess 2:19, 4:16-17)—meaning it hasn’t yet happened. The apostle John refers to this Daniel passage as a future event: “Look, he is coming with the clouds …” (Rev 1:7) and pairs it with a Zechariah quotation about a divine victory over evil (Zech 12:10)—an event that closely resembles those of Revelation 19 (cp. Zech 12:10–13:6).
Evidence suggests:
Jesus arrives in heaven after His ascension to take the throne. He immediately makes His authority known to those on earth.
Yet, sometime in the future when the kingdom of darkness is at its zenith—the age of the terrible fourth beast of Daniel 7 and the fourth kingdom of Daniel 2 (cp. Rev 17:1-13)—Jesus will return here to destroy evil and establish His kingdom on earth.
The distinction is like an incident from World War 2. Admiral Chester Nimitz took over his duties as Commander-in-Chief, US Pacific Fleet in December 1941—just after the Japanese attack on the naval base at Pearl Harbor. His headquarters remained at Pearl Harbor, HI. However, as the war went on, Nimitz’s Central Pacific campaign re-took territory the Japanese had captured earlier in the war, and he became further and further removed from the center of action. Eventually, in January 1945, Nimitz moved his headquarters from Pearl Harbor, HI to Guam. He had always been the Pacific Ocean Area theater commander, but his move to the scene of action allowed him to exercise more direct and convenient control over his forces.
In a comparable way, while God declared Jesus to be His eternal Son and King at His ascension (Acts 13:32-37; cp. Ps 2, 110), the time will come when Jesus moves His headquarters from heaven to earth. Unlike Admiral Nimitz, Jesus is not hindered by distance, but the concept is similar. He wants to be with His people—it’s why one of His titles is Emmanuel (Isa 7:14, Mt 1:23). His people are here, and so when the time comes Father, Son, and Spirit will shift their flag to Jerusalem.
Daniel is confused. He asks the angel, who (as we saw earlier) gives him the bottom line: “17The four great beasts are four kings that will rise from the earth. 18But the holy people of the Most High will receive the kingdom and will possess it forever—yes, for ever and ever,” (Dan 7:17-18).
But Daniel is still troubled. The fourth beast terrifies him. Who is it? What does it mean? When will it happen? It’s so fearsome—what does it signify (Dan 7:19)?
What the dream means (Daniel 7:15-28)
Daniel is worried about the fourth beast because it’s horrifying. It has iron teeth, bronze claws, and it “crushed and devoured its victims and trampled underfoot whatever was left,” (Dan 7:19). He’s curious “about the ten horns on its head and about the other horn that came up, before which three of them fell—the horn that looked more imposing than the others and that had eyes and a mouth that spoke boastfully,” (Dan 7:20).
Daniel looks again at this image, as if the angel had paused it on a screen, and at the same time the action on the second screen replays the scene from Daniel 7:11—perhaps in slow motion. Daniel sees the “little horn” waging war against the people of the Most High and winning—until the Ancient of Days raps His gavel and puts a stop to it all. Then, God’s people possessed the kingdom (Dan 7:21-22).
What does it all mean? The angel answers in two parts; (a) the rise of the “little horn” from among the ten (Dan 7:23-25), and then (b) the little horn’s demise (Dan 7:26-27).
The rise of the “little horn” (Daniel 7:23-25)
The angel explains:
23He gave me this explanation: ‘The fourth beast is a fourth kingdom that will appear on earth. It will be different from all the other kingdoms and will devour the whole earth, trampling it down and crushing it. 24The ten horns are ten kings who will come from this kingdom. After them another king will arise, different from the earlier ones; he will subdue three kings. 25He will speak against the Most High and oppress his holy people and try to change the set times and the laws. The holy people will be delivered into his hands for a time, times and half a time (Daniel 7:23-25).
The beast represents a mighty kingdom of darkness. It’s identical to the fourth kingdom from Daniel 2, which the angel described as strong as iron—“and as iron breaks things to pieces, so it will crush and break all the others,” (Dan 2:40). We don’t know what kind of animal the fourth kingdom is. It’s teeth and claws sound dragon-like, which would fit with the dragon symbolizing Satan (cp. Rev 12-13).[8]
This fourth kingdom has three phases, each separated by large periods of time but having traceable connections.[9]
Evil Kingdom Phase 1. The historical Roman Empire. It is “different” from all the other kingdoms because of the extent and ferocity of its realm (“devour … trample … crush,” Dan 7:23).
Evil Kingdom Phase 2. This is the age between (a) Jesus and the apostles, and (b) the last days. This makes sense because the ten horns are ten kings who will come from this kingdom (Dan 7:24). They are future developments after the Evil Kingdom Phase 1 leaves the stage.[10] Many bible interpreters lose their audience trying to identify the ten kingdoms. The angel doesn’t tell us what they are, so we should drop the attempt. It is idle speculation that accomplishes nothing—no matter how ingenious it may be.
We can say these ten kings (or kingdoms—the kings in Daniel’s visions are always synonymous with their realms) are a second phase of the historical Roman Empire because one could trace their origins back to it. This line need not be direct. For example, (a) South Korea’s existence derives from Japan’s defeat in the second world war, (b) the present-day Federal Republic of Germany comes from Otto Von Bismark’s unification of 39 independent nation states into the German Confederation in the late 19th century, and (c) the United States derives from the British Empire.
Neither example is a straight line from past to present, but each nation only exists today because of its historical ancestor—the same way a Tesla derives from a Model T Ford. The “10 horns” of Evil Kingdom Phase 2 may be like that—which means they could be any nation in the Western world. The number ten may also be symbolic, which would obviously complicate quests to identify them.
Evil Kingdom Phase 3. This is the time of the antichrist and the last days. We know this because “after them [that is, after the period of the 10 kings] another king will arise, different from the earlier ones; he will subdue three kings,” (Dan 7:24). This mysterious “little horn” is the antichrist, who John later reminds us is on the way (1 Jn 2:18). The angel tells Daniel the little horn will “put down” (RSV) three of the ten nations and arise from somewhere among them (“came up from among them,” Dan 7:8).[11] He’s different from the others because (Dan 7:25):
First, he will speak against God. Earlier, Daniel saw that he had “a mouth that spoke boastfully,” (Dan 7:8). This is blasphemy. The apostle Paul later calls this individual “the man of lawlessness” who “will exalt himself over everything that is called God or is worshiped, so that he sets himself up in God’s temple, proclaiming himself to be God,” (2 Thess 2:4; cp. Rev 13).
Second, he will oppress believers. This is a long and deliberate campaign that wears believers down (NASB) or wears them out (KJV).[12] The apostle John later saw a vision of antichrist—a horrid beast which combined imagery from all four monsters from Daniel’s visions (Rev 13:1-4). “It was given power to wage war against God’s holy people and to conquer them. And it was given authority over every tribe, people, language and nation,” (Rev 13:7).
Third, he will try to change set times and laws. The antichrist will pervert and twist public morality, virtue, and decency into a lie.[13] Some also believe this refers to anti-religious sentiment in general—a pure secularism[14] and a “new table of religious festivals.”[15] It’s both.
God gives His people over to this evil figure’s power for a set period (“3.5 times”) that the angel doesn’t define here but is probably three-and one-half years (cp. Dan 12:5-7, 11).[16] The significance here is not the length of the evil king’s reign, but its sudden crash after a rapid acceleration.[17] It speeds up quickly (“a time, times …”), and then hits a wall and crashes with no warning (“half a time”).
The little horn’s fall (Daniel 7:26-27)
Why does antichrist’s kingdom crash and burn so suddenly?
Because, the angel explains, “the court will sit, and [antichrist’s] power will be taken away and completely destroyed forever,” (Dan 7:26). This is an elaboration on Daniel 7:14. We know the evil empire’s fall will be sudden and violent—remember the stone that smashes the statue from Daniel 2? The apostle John tells of an angel picking up a huge boulder and throwing it into the sea: “With such violence the great city of Babylon will be thrown down, never to be found again,” (Rev 18:21). This is when God avenges the blood of His servants, and the heavenly chorus sings: “Hallelujah! The smoke from her goes up for ever and ever,” (Rev 19:2-3).
Daniel’s vision is the divine courtroom where the Ancient of Days declares: “Enough is enough!” John’s apocalypse tells us that, as antichrist’s evil kingdom smolders in ruins, Jesus the King returns to this sphere with the armies of heaven to do battle with His sinister counterpart. “He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God,” (Rev 19:13). This is the blood of God’s enemies, tramped and splattered like so many grapes in a vat. The prophet Isaiah explained: “I trampled the nations in my anger; in my wrath I made them drunk and poured their blood on the ground” (Isa 63:6). John warns that Christ “treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty,” (Rev 19:15).
Then, the angelic guide tells Daniel, “His kingdom will be an everlasting kingdom, and all rulers will worship and obey him,” (Dan 7:27).
What does all this mean?
Daniel’s vision tells us six things:
A singularly evil figure will rise from a nation which derives, in some way, from the historical Roman Empire.
This antichrist will then subdue three nations which stem from the historical Roman Empire.
He will persecute God’s people, twisting public decency and morality against everything God says is good—a program of pure secularism that is rabidly anti-religious.
Antichrist will rise rapidly then experience a sudden and spectacular crash (“time, times, and half a time,” Dan 7:25). Revelation 18-19 tells us this “crash” is God’s violent overthrow of Babylon (Rev 18:21-24) and Jesus’ second coming (Rev 19:11-21).
Antichrist will be “slain and his body destroyed and thrown into the blazing fire,” (Dan 7:11; cp. Rev 19:19-21).
The Son of Man will take His seat as King and make all things new (Dan 7:13-14, 28; cp. Rev 21-22). “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father,” (Mt 13:43).
To Daniel and the exiles then, God’s message was: “The kingdoms of this world will surely fall, and I’ll judge them, and I’ll make everything right.”
To churches great and small today, God makes the same promises—even as we’re now several episodes further along in His story. His truth is still marching on. No matter what is happening in your life, in your country, and in your world—God will win. Babylon will lose. And Jesus’ “dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed,” (Dan 7:14). God wanted Daniel and the people of Israel to believe that as they lived in exile in an unholy land. He wants us to believe it too.
Here is a recent sermon I preached on this passage:
[1] John Walvoord, Daniel, rev. by Charles Dyer and Philip Rawley (Chicago: Moody, 2012), 181.
[2] Walvoord represents the dispensationalist habit to favor prophetic timelines instead of the author’s point. He devotes two pages to defending the historicity of Daniel’s statements at Daniel 7:16-18, yet never stresses that this is the very point of the whole vision (Daniel, 211-12).
[3] I am following Edward J. Young, The Prophecy of Daniel: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1949), 147-50.
For a very compelling argument from a conservative that the fourth beast is the kingdom of the Syrian madman Antiochus Epiphanes, see Moses Stuart, A Commentary on the Book of Daniel (Boston: Crocker & Brewster, 1850), 205-11. For the old saw about the fourth kingdom being the papacy, Albert Barnes does an excellent job (“Daniel,” in Barnes Notes, vol. 7 (reprint; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998), 76-99). Leon Wood’s wonderful commentary advocates the dispensational perspective of a “revived Roman Empire,” (A Commentary on Daniel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1973), ch. 7).
[4] Walvoord does this (Daniel, 7), and so does Andrew Steinmann (Daniel (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2008), 145).
[7] Gk: πλὴν (contrasting conjunction) λέγω ὑμῖν ἀπʼ ἄρτι (temporal preposition + temporal adverb = marks the time at which something changes) ὄψεσθε (iterative future) τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου. “But I’ll tell you all this—from here on out you’ll all be seeing the Son of Man … arriving on heaven’s clouds.”
[8] John Goldingay declares the fourth beast has no dragon-like qualities, and bizarrely suggests it may be a war elephant! (Daniel, vol. 30, in WBC (Dallas: Word, 1989), 163, 186).
[10] Barnes, “Daniel,” 56. Wood (Daniel, 188, 200) and Stephen R. Miller believe the ten will be contemporaneous with each other. “They reign contemporaneously as one empire since all exist together, and this fact is expressly stated in Rev 17:12–13. Daniel was predicting that out of the old Roman Empire will arise ten kings (or kingdoms) that will constitute a new phase of that empire at the end of the age,” (Miller, Daniel, vol. 18, NAC (Nashville: B&H, 1994), 213). This may well be the case. The citation from Revelation 17 is a strong one.
[11] Again, Miller makes a good point about these ten kingdoms: “Coming ‘after them’ signifies that the empire will already have been formed by the first ten kings when Antichrist rises to his position of dominance over them. The text does not mean that the new king (Antichrist) will originate from a separate nation from those symbolized by the ten horns, for the empire seems to remain a confederacy of ten after he comes to power,” (Daniel, 213).
[14] Barnes, “Daniel,” 72-3; Peter Steveson, Daniel (Greenville: BJU Press, 2008), 137. “Denying religious liberty is characteristic of dictators (e.g., Antiochus IV, Nero, Domitian, Stalin, Hitler, and others), but Antichrist will go beyond what anyone has done before in his attempt to create a thoroughly secular world. Even now there are those seeking to rid society of all vestiges of religion,” (Miller, Daniel, 214).
Stuart believes it refers to the Mosaic law because he sees the fourth kingdom as being that of Antiochus Epiphanes (Daniel, 222-3). Steinmann goes beyond the evidence by declaring that antichrist seeks to destroy justification by faith by substituting another gospel (Daniel, 374).
[16] On the three- and one-half years, see Wood, Daniel, 201-2; Stuart, Daniel, 222-4, and Miller, Daniel, 214. For a rejoinder, see Steinmann, Daniel, 375-6. Barnes takes a middle road and says both figurative and literal senses are well supported (“Daniel,” 72-5).
[17] Keil and Delitzsch, 9:652; Baldwin, Daniel, 162. Dispensationalists often miss this.