This message was part of a larger session at the 2022 annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society under the title “Receiving Christ as a Treasure: The Affectional Element of Saving Faith.” Watch the entire session here.

I’ll start with an assumption I hope we share: Saving faith is a receiving of Christ. John 1:11–12: “He [Christ] came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” So, saving faith is a receiving act, not a giving act or a performing act.

When God justifies the one who has saving faith, he does not have respect to faith as giving him anything or performing anything to prove our merit. God justifies through faith because faith receives Christ as the sole ground of God being one hundred percent for us. That’s my assumption, my starting point.

Question and Proposed Answer

My question is this: More fully, what do we receive Christ as? And more specifically: What is the actual experience of receiving him? What is happening in our soul when we experience saving faith?

My answer to the first question is that whether we are receiving Christ as Savior, or Lord, or Shepherd, or Friend, saving faith receives Christ as a treasured Savior, a treasured Lord, a treasured Shepherd, a treasured Friend, a treasured righteousness. Saving faith receives a treasured Christ.

Thus, the answer to my second question is that what is happening in our souls when we experience saving faith is that we are treasuring Christ. We are experiencing the spiritual affection that corresponds to the greatness and beauty and value of Christ. Therefore, the thesis of my book What Is Saving Faith? and this talk is that “saving faith has in it the affectional dimension of treasuring Christ” (20).

Historically saving faith has been described as including knowledge, assent, and trust. I agree with that. But what needs to be drawn out of this great tradition is that this knowing includes a spiritual sight of the glory of Christ (2 Corinthians 4:4, 6), and this assenting includes the consent of the soul to the value of that glory (Philippians 3:7–8), and this trusting includes the treasuring of that value as eternally satisfying (John 6:35). That’s my aim — to draw out this reality from the great tradition by showing it as biblical.

Two Reasons Affection Is Vital

I regard this affectional dimension of faith as essential for salvation. Where it is absent, there is no saving faith. Where Christ is not received as a treasured Savior and treasured Lord, he is being used, not trusted in a saving way. Or to say it another way, “Saving faith does not see Christ as useful to obtain something treasured more than Christ” (224).

To be sure, Christ is useful. He is the means of escape from hell, and forgiveness of sins, and resurrection of a pain-free body, and a new creation. And for these we should be leaping for joy. But if we receive Christ because no-hell, no-guilt, no-pain, and new-creation are our treasure, while Christ himself is not the supreme treasure, then that receiving is not saving faith.

It is possible to trust a surgeon to operate on your brain and have no desire to spend time with him at all. He is simply useful. You trust him because he’s competent and because your health is valuable. When the cancer is removed, or hell is escaped, we may have no interest in him. A pain-free heaven without Jesus would be perfectly acceptable to thousands of professing Christians. Which is one reason I wrote the book.

“Saving faith embraces Christ both as useful for his saving gifts and as precious for his satisfying glory.”

The spiritual affection of treasuring Christ is essential not only because it leads to human salvation, but also because it leads to God’s glorification. The reason this is so is that saving faith embraces Christ both as useful for his saving gifts and as precious for his satisfying glory. The affectional dimension of saving faith is essential both for the salvation of sinners and for the glorification of the Savior. Without it, the all-satisfying worth of Jesus would not be magnified in salvation as God intends.

Substantial Precedent

My defense of this claim — that saving faith has in it an affectional dimension — is not mainly by showing how widespread this truth is in historical theology, but rather to draw it out of biblical texts.
But it is important to me that I not say anything without substantial precedent in the history of God’s people. I am fallible. And it is good that my reading of Scripture be chastened by two thousand years of other people’s reading of the Bible.

So, I do take heart when I read:

Calvin describing saving faith as “a warm embrace of Christ” that consists in “pious affection.”
Turretin describing faith as the “embrace of . . . that inestimable treasure.”
Owen calling it a reception of the “Lord Jesus in his comeliness and eminency.”
Mastricht saying that it “denotes desiring and reception with delight.”
Shedd saying that “evangelical faith . . . involves an affectionate love of Christ.”
Berkhof saying that it is a “hearty reliance on the promises of God.”

To my knowledge, I am not saying anything that has not been said in various ways by others far more gifted than I.

Biblical Support

But in the end we go to our Bibles. So let me point to several of the key Scriptures where I try to show the affectional nature of saving faith. I’ll try to point to the nub of the exegesis, hoping that you might look at the fuller argument in the book or bring it up for discussion in the panel.

2 Corinthians 4:3–7

First, we look at 2 Corinthians 4:3–7. And the thing to look for is, What is missing in the experience of the one who lacks saving faith in verse 4? And then, given what God does to change that in verse 6, what is the experience of the one who has saving faith? And what is it called in verse 7?

Even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers [those who do not have saving faith], to keep them from seeing the light [the shining] of the gospel [the good news!] of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said [at the beginning in creation], “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light [shining] of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

So here the gospel is defined in verse 4 as the “good news of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God,” or as verse 6 describes it, “the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” I think those are two ways of describing the one divine glory revealed in the gospel. This glory shines with spiritual “light” through the gospel story of Christ crucified and risen.

On the one hand (according to verse 4), the god of this world, Satan, knows what he must do in order to prevent saving faith from happening when that gospel is proclaimed. He must prevent the spiritual sight of that glory. That is what he does in verse 4. He blinds the minds of those without saving faith.

On the other hand (according to verse 6), God, the Creator, knows what he must do in order to change that and bring about saving faith. He must cause this divine glory in the gospel (“the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ”) to shine in blinded hearts. That is, he must cause the light of the glory of Christ — the glory of God in Christ — to be seen (with what Paul calls “the eyes of your heart” in Ephesians 1:18).

In our unbelief we saw Christ in the gospel as foolish, or a stumbling block, or boring, or mythical, or unimportant, or negligible (1 Corinthians 1:22–24; 2:14). And then the Creator of the universe caused us to see Christ as glorious, true, valuable, all-sufficient, satisfying — all of that I think is implied in “the glory of Christ” (v. 4). And in that miracle of spiritual sight, saving faith came into being.

And how does Paul describe this in verse 7? He says, “And we have this treasure.” What treasure? The glory of Christ seen in the gospel. “We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” Paul sees the experience of the glory of Christ in the gospel as a great treasure. Christ in his beauty is a treasure. The gift of seeing him that way is a treasure.

Since those who are blind to this treasure in verse 4 are called “unbelievers,” I infer that those who see him this way in verse 6 are believers. What they see now, but could not see before, is glory. The glory of God in the face of Christ. Or, as verse 7 says, they see him as a treasure.

I conclude, therefore, that saving faith includes a treasuring sight of the glory of Christ in the gospel. (Consider also 1 Corinthians 1:21–25; 2:14; Ephesians 1:18; and John 5:44.) The very nature of the new birth that causes the sight of the treasure of Christ, determines the nature of the faith it creates — namely, a treasuring of the treasure of the glory of Christ.

2 Thessalonians 2:9–12

Second, we look at 2 Thessalonians 2:9–12. What to look for here is the relationship between faith in the truth and love for the truth.

The coming of the lawless one is by the activity of Satan with all power and false signs and wonders, and with all wicked deception for those who are perishing, because they refused to love the truth and so be saved. Therefore God sends them a strong delusion, so that they may believe what is false, in order that all may be condemned who did not believe the truth but had pleasure in unrighteousness.

First, what is the meaning of the strange phrase in verse 10? Another way to put it is: “They did not welcome/receive the love of the truth.” My suggestion is this. At the end of verse 12 it says that these people “had pleasure in unrighteousness.” That is, they loved unrighteousness (cf. 2 Peter 2:15). So, in verse 12 they love unrighteousness, and in verse 10 they will not welcome a love for the truth.

This is similar to Romans 1:18, where men “by their unrighteousness suppress the truth” (cf. Romans 1:28). And 1 Corinthians 13:6, where love rejoices in truth rather than rejoicing in unrighteousness. So I take 2 Thessalonians 2:10 to mean that in the deception of unrighteousness, these people would not even consider replacing love of unrighteousness with love for the truth. Even if it were offered to them as a gift, they would not receive a love for the truth.

Now, with that clarification, Paul connects faith in the truth and love for the truth in two ways to show how there is no faith in the truth without love for the truth.

“There is no faith in the truth without love for the truth.”

First, he says in the middle of verse 10 that people are “perishing, because they [did not welcome a love for] the truth.” Then, in verse 12 he says that people are “condemned who did not believe the truth.” So, failure to love the truth condemns, and failure to believe the truth condemns.

And then, second, to make the connection between loving the truth and believing the truth one piece, Paul points at the end of verse 12 to a surprising contrast. We would expect him to say, “They did not believe the truth but believed a lie.” But what he says is, “[They] did not believe the truth but had pleasure in unrighteousness.” Which could be stated, “They did not believe the truth but loved unrighteousness” (cf. 2 Peter 2:15).

Instead of loving or finding pleasure in the truth of the gospel, they loved and found pleasure in unrighteousness. Which I think implies that believing includes loving what is true and right as it is presented in the gospel. And this loving is an affectional element in saving faith, because it is clarified here as “finding pleasure in.”

So, I conclude that the (new birth) miracle of welcoming a love for the truth of the gospel, is part of the miracle of saving faith in the truth of the gospel. And this “loving” is essentially what I mean by “treasuring.” A shift of loves is at the root of saving faith.

Hebrews 11:1, 24–26

The third text we look at is Hebrews 11. The thing to look for here is how the writer describes faith as looking expectantly and confidently for a treasured reward. I’ll read verse 1 and then verses 24–26:

Now faith is the assurance [or substance] of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. . . . By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward.

When he says, “Faith is the [substance] of things hoped for,” he implies that there is an affectional element in faith because, in the biblical understanding of hope, we only hope when we feel a confident expectation and desire to gain something we treasure.

And this understanding of faith is made explicit in the case of Moses in verses 24–26. By faith Moses turned his back on the “fleeting pleasures” of Egypt (v. 25) and looked to the promised Messiah and hoped in the “reward” to come (v. 26). His faith was the substance — the experienced present reality of that future reward — which he treasured more than the treasures of Egypt.

So, I conclude that the writer to the Hebrews understands saving faith as having in it an affectional dimension, which he would call treasuring the reward that God promises to be for us in Christ.

Gospel of John

Let’s consider one more brief but hugely important cluster of texts from the Gospel of John. John never uses the noun faith, but he uses the verb believe ninety-eight times. I think the reason for this has to do with the affectional nature of saving faith as John presents it. As I read these passages, watch for how John describes believing as drinking, eating, and seeing with satisfaction.

Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. . . . I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever.” (John 6:35, 51)

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” (John 7:37–38)

Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than [loving!] the light because their works were evil. (John 3:18–19)

From these and other passages in John, I conclude that Jesus treats believing as having an essential affectional dimension. That dimension is described as eating the bread of life so that our souls do not hunger (John 6:35, 51), and as drinking living water so as never to thirst again (John 4:10–11; 6:35; 7:38), and as loving the light of the world for the glorious brightness that he really is: “We have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father” (John 1:14; 3:19).

For this experience of saving faith to happen in hearts that are mere flesh (John 3:6), Jesus says that we must be born again (John 3:3, 7). When that happens, saving belief comes into being as a compelling preference — thirst, hunger, longing — for Christ as living water, heavenly bread, and the light of the world.

As Peter puts it, we are born again as infants who “have tasted that the Lord is good” (1 Peter 2:3). The life-giving milk of Christ is pleasing. This tasting is not a neutral act. Saving faith comes into being as a God-given preference — desire, hunger, thirst — for the water and bread and light that Christ is. And it exists as a satisfied drinking and eating and beholding of Christ.

“Christ is most magnified in our faith when our faith is most satisfied in him.”

I suggest that John never uses the noun faith but uses the verb believe ninety-eight times because he wants to foreground the spiritual act of the soul in receiving and coming and drinking and eating and loving. He prefers not to speak of believing as a state or position of the soul but as an act of the soul — a spiritual imbibing, ingesting, embracing, and savoring of the all-satisfying glories of Christ.

Magnify Jesus

My main point has been that saving faith has in it the affectional dimension of treasuring Christ. The ultimate reason this matters is that God designed saving faith such that he would be maximally glorified through it in salvation. That happens because such faith glorifies Christ not only as useful but also as precious. As a treasuring grace, saving faith magnifies Christ’s all-satisfying worth.

Or we might say Christ is most magnified in our faith when our faith is most satisfied in him.

Where do you turn in moments of decision? To what, or to whom, do you look for help when you need to choose between two paths?

We live most of our lives spontaneously, without pausing to ponder one option or another. But we sometimes come to moments of decision. It might seem as small as a request to help a church member, or a text informing you of a friend in need. You pause, even briefly, to ponder, Will I give of my time and energy to help, or do I have a good excuse to kindly decline?

In such moments, where do you look for clarity? Specifically, as Christians, what might we put before our minds, and hearts, to guide us in these times of decision?

The end of Acts 20 gives us not just a Christian way to proceed but what we might call a Christian Hedonistic approach. Could it be that the best decision is also the most blessed?

Remember These Words

If you’re reading a red-letter Bible, you might expect the Gospels to have plenty of crimson, but not the book of Acts. Mostly Acts is black and white — with some exceptions for Jesus speaking to the disciples before his ascension, to Peter from heaven in a vision, and to Paul on the Damascus road. There we find some splashes of red. But Acts 20 is a strange place for color.

This is Paul’s last will and testament to the pastor-elders of Ephesus. He is making for Jerusalem, anticipating he will not see them again. Paul gives them a rich and moving farewell speech (verses 18–35), which culminates, surprisingly for many readers, with red letters.

As his message draws to its close, Paul reminds them of his own hard work, which they themselves observed, and which he wants to be a model to them:

In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts 20:35)

“It is more blessed” — more happy! — “to give than to receive.” This is strikingly hedonistic logic. What a parting word to leave in such a poignant moment!

Not only does Paul believe this truth, live by it himself, and quote it for others, but he adds that these church leaders should explicitly remember it. That is, bring it to mind, and keep bringing it to mind. Have it guide and motivate you. Turn here in key moments of decision. This is the sort of truth that deserves remembrance. So, be conscious about it, and regularly rehearse this reality, that you might live according to the supernatural way and words of Jesus, rather than as a natural person.

The natural human instinct is, I’ll be happier if I get, rather than give. But Jesus teaches another calculus.

Unblushing Promises for Giving

Whether this particular wording is Jesus’s own or Paul’s insightful capture of Christ’s ethic, we cannot say conclusively. However, what’s most important, whoever captured it, is recognizing that this is clearly a good summary of Jesus’s teaching. This is indeed how Jesus taught. This, in summary form, is the spirit of Christ’s regular appeals.

C.S. Lewis, for one, comments on Jesus’s “unblushing promises of reward” throughout the Gospels. Give to others, Jesus says, and you will get from your Father in heaven. Give on earth, he teaches, and you will receive from heaven. Give of your earthly, temporal possessions, and you will get a heavenly, eternal possession. The heart of his appeal is this: you get more in giving than in getting. Or slightly expanded: you get more (from God) in giving (to others) than in getting (from others).

Whether Acts 20:35 is a quote from Christ or a summary from Paul (or Luke), let’s see from the Gospel of Luke why this matches Christ’s ethic so well. Four passages, and promises, come quickly into view.

1. God will outgive you.

Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. (Luke 6:38)

In this context, Jesus has instructed his disciples on how they should treat others, and then how they will be treated by “the Most High” who is “your Father.” Verse 37: “Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.” Jesus’s pattern is this: treat others on earth well, with an explicit view toward the benefit that comes from heaven.

Christ’s ethic is plainly not the natural human ethic that says, “Treat others well, and they will treat you well in return.” He expressly denies that in verse 34: “If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount.” Rather, Jesus says, “Love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great” (verse 35).

“When God gives, he does not hold back. He doesn’t cut corners. He’s a cheerful, generous giver.”

The “credit” or “benefit” (Greek charis) to which Jesus makes explicit appeal is not what others will do for you in return but what your heavenly Father will be and do for you. You give to others, seeking nothing in return from them, because you are looking to the reward you will receive from God. Oh, you are seeking return, but not from man — from God. And when God gives, he does not hold back. He doesn’t cut corners. He’s a cheerful, generous giver: “good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over”!

2. God gives treasure that will not fail.

Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (Luke 12:32–34)

Here is the same spirit and holy hedonistic line of reasoning: as you empty your earthly, aging, stealable moneybags by giving to others in need, you “provide yourselves with [heavenly] moneybags that do not grow old,” treasure that cannot be stolen by thieves or destroyed by moths.

Again, we find two directions of giving in Jesus’s teaching: (1) his people give to others in need; (2) his Father gives to his people. You give from your limited possessions to the needy, and you get from your Father’s unlimited bounty — and remembering the second motivates the first. Knowing your Father has it all, and that what he has cannot be stolen or destroyed, and that he happily gives to his children, you are freed from hoarding and holding tightly to earthly possessions.

The appeal is plainly hedonistic: give to the needy, recalling your Father who has no needs. Not only does he care for his little flock and thus free you to care for others, but in your very giving to others, you accrue provision and blessing from God. You are more blessed, Jesus says in effect, to give to others and so to receive from your Father in heaven.

3. God will make you happy.

When you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just. (Luke 14:13–14)

This passage comes closer to Acts 20:35 than any of the others. We have Christ’s call to give, the promise of repayment/reward, and the language of being “blessed” (by God). This is not the blessed of being praised (eulogētos) but the blessed of being happy (makarios). When you give to others, and they cannot repay you, God will make you happy. He will repay you in the end, and knowing that makes us happy not only then but now.

A profound insight into the heart of Jesus’s ethic comes with the mention of giving to others who cannot repay you. The natural, human, less-happy way is to give to others who will give back to you. They will repay you, tit for tat. You have your reward, and you leave untapped the infinite joy-resources of heaven and eternity.

But the supernatural, divine, more-blessed way is to give to others who cannot repay you. Because then you know your heart has been truly hedonistic, Christian Hedonistic. Your heart has looked to the majestic Rewards of heaven rather than the miserly reimbursements of earth. And your heavenly Father has never missed a single payment in his ledger. He will repay you. In his perfect justice, he will reward you with everything you deserve — and in his amazing grace, he will lavish you with far more than you deserve. You will be far happier to be rewarded by him than repaid by fellow humans.

In other words, your all-seeing, all-knowing, all-just, and all-gracious heavenly Father will not let any act in the name of his Son go without eventual reward — however hidden it may be in this age. The books will be opened. The world will know. Christ will be honored. And our heavenly Father will shower his children with every good that’s justly owed, and then far, far more. Even the one who gives a cup of cold water in Jesus’s name “will be no means lose his reward” (Matthew 10:42). How much more the one gives a feast to the needy.

4. God will receive you into his own house.

Finally, Luke 16:9 may be the most unnerving of all. Jesus tells a parable of an “unrighteous manager” who shrewdly uses his temporary access to wealth to secure favor for himself once his stewardship is taken away. Jesus acknowledges his wickedness, yet risks drawing this hedonistic lesson for his disciples:

Make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings.

We’ve seen this logic before, even if it hasn’t been as provocative. Our possessions on earth are so fleeting; so soon will they fail us! Why hold on to them tightly and be ruined, when you could use what stewardship you have for now to “make friends” for yourself with God Almighty, who will receive you into his eternal dwelling?

It’s a hedonist’s appeal. Holding on now to earthly possessions will not make you deeply and enduringly happy. You really want to be happy? Loosen your grip. Give your earthly stuff away — not that you might receive in return from fellow humans, but that you might receive now and forever from your Father in heaven, and one day come as guest, and child, into his very home that is heaven.

Your Father Will Reward You

“It is more blessed to give than to receive” is a marvelous summary of Jesus’s ethic. But how might it become tangible in our own moments of decision?

When faced with the opportunity to give, think like a hedonist — a Christian Hedonist. That’s what Jesus would have us do. That’s what Paul himself did, and what he would have us do (as he makes explicit with the word remember).

So, very practically, you come to a moment of decision. You hear of some need. Christian love is calling. You can think of all sorts of carnal reasons to say no. And you can come up with carnal reasons to say yes. At that moment, Jesus and Paul would have us turn our minds to the promises of God: He will outgive your giving, guaranteed. He gives treasure that will not fail. He will make you happy forever, and in measure even now. And, in the end, he will even receive you into the divine generosity of his own house.

What unblushing promises of reward! Grab one of them, rehearse it, and act in faith. Or just reach for that insightful Christian Hedonist summary of Acts 20:35: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

ABSTRACT: In John 7:39, the apostle John writes, “As yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.” The Spirit, though active in the lives of old-covenant saints, was given to God’s people in a radically new way following Jesus’s ascension and the event of Pentecost. Experientially, the Spirit illuminates the glory of the crucified Christ and reveals the Father’s love. Ecclesially, the Spirit transforms all of God’s people — men and women, young and old — into the temple of God. And eschatologically, the Spirit drafts Christians as witnesses in God’s end-time lawsuit against Israel and the nations. In these three ways and more, to have the Spirit of the risen King is to have the very treasure of the kingdom.

For our ongoing series of feature articles for pastors and Christian leaders, we asked Dan Brendsel (PhD, Wheaton), pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Hinckley, Minnesota, to explore the new work of the Spirit after the ascension of Jesus.

The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure, says our Saviour. . . . The treasure itself, is the Holy Ghost himself, and joy in him.

—John Donne1

Our task is to deepen understanding of the kingdom treasure that is ours in Christ as a result of the Father’s love — namely, the presence and power of the Person of the Holy Spirit. We have, in a first installment, considered some necessary Christological cues toward a proper understanding of the church’s great Pentecostal privilege. We can depict with a picture what we will attempt to do in this second installment. Let us think of the kingdom treasure that is the Holy Spirit as a brilliant and priceless diamond. Part 1 sought to showcase the diamond best by attention to its proper setting, taking care to balance it properly in the Light. We are thus prepared now in part 2 to propose and appreciate three facets of the newness and glory of the Spirit’s work after Pentecost.

Already in part 1 we began touching upon the difference that Christ’s ascension and the event of Pentecost make for the work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of God’s people. It is, we might say, the difference between having the inaugurated kingdom, and having only the promise (given by the Spirit) of its inauguration. It is the difference between resting in the accomplishment of the King’s victory, and hoping in the prophetic word (inspired by the Spirit) about the King’s victory. Toward a fuller appreciation of the kingdom treasure we have been given, the diamond which is enjoyment of the Spirit after Pentecost, we must further consider specific facets. In what follows, I offer three such considerations, in particularly Johannine and Lukan hues.2

Experiential Facet

John 7:37–39 is an important text in thinking about the gift of the Spirit, but it poses a challenge:

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.

This text asserts that the Spirit was not given before Christ was “glorified.” As we’ve labored to show in part 1, this cannot mean the Spirit was absolutely “not yet given” before Jesus’s death, resurrection, and ascension. What, then, can John mean?

Poured Out from the Cross

There are, in fact, several interpretive cruxes in the text,3 but for our purposes, we can somewhat steer clear of the debates and simply point to something all sides acknowledge: the Spirit is given when Jesus is glorified.4 Of course, this raises the question of what Jesus’s glorification is, but there is again mostly agreement that, for John, Jesus’s glorification, or his “lifting up” (see John 3:14; 8:28; 12:32–33), includes his crucifixion. The giving of the Spirit is tightly bound to the cross. Indeed, at the climax of John, when Jesus dies upon the cross, the soldiers seek to verify that he died by piercing his side, from which flows blood and water (John 19:34). The death of Jesus provides the cleansing and life-giving blood of the covenant, and the cleansing and life-giving water of the Spirit, into which Christ’s people are baptized.5 John 7:39 at least (if not also 7:38; see footnote 3) looks directly to the cross: from the belly of the crucified Christ, the people of God receive the Spirit.6

That is to say, the King wins his victory on the cross, securing there the kingdom (the Spirit) for his people. In this connection, we can observe the striking word John uses to describe Jesus’s moment of death. John alone among the Gospel writers uses a strong, active verb: Jesus handed over (paredōken) his Spirit (John 19:30).7 From the cross, the conquering King of glory actively hands over his own Spirit for the life and joy of his people.8

Convicted of Sin

The Spirit, then, has the closest of connections to the cross. But this is so not only because the cross secures the Spirit. In addition, the Spirit’s peculiar ministry now is especially to help us see the cross for what it is. John hints at this in his narrative aside following the crucifixion.9 In particular, in John 19:37 he quotes the latter half of Zechariah 12:10: “They will look on him whom they have pierced.” In their original Old Testament context, the words John quotes follow on the heels of God’s promise to “pour out”10 on the house of David his “Spirit of grace and of supplication” (Zechariah 12:10a).11 The full promise in Zechariah can be understood thus: the Spirit will enable those who look upon the pierced one to mourn as they ought over the wonder that has occurred. The good news of Jesus Christ, as John narrates it, is that the crucifixion of the Son of God wins for us the Spirit of God, who leads us back to the cross with humility and supplication.

To put it another way, as Jesus says earlier in John’s gospel, the Spirit “convicts” us of our sin and need for a crucified Savior (John 16:8).12 In the shadow of the cross, the Holy Spirit exposes the true depth of our sin to us,13 convinces us of our wickedness and of our great need of salvation, and woos us to repentance with the word of grace. The cross is where the Spirit was won for us, and at the same time the cross is what the Spirit helps us to understand and, in our sin, to be humbled and convicted before.

Loved by the Father

We can make another observation about the connection between the cross and the Spirit. Later in John 16, Jesus makes a strange comment, perhaps first striking us as a non sequitur:

In that day you will ask nothing of me. Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full. (John 16:23–24)

Jesus says that a day is coming when we will ask nothing of him (verse 23a). Then in the next breath he says that whatever we ask of the Father in his name will be granted to us that our joy may be full (verses 23b–24). The logical connection between these assertions is hardly clear. Why encourage us to ask, right after asserting that we will never ask again? It may be that Jesus refers, first, to our asking of him and, second, to our asking of the Father. But it also may be that Jesus refers to two different kinds of asking.14 In verse 23, he refers to inquiry (erōtēsete), asking questions because of a lack of knowledge, asking for explanations to matters that confuse. That is what the disciples do in John’s Gospel. They are confused; they misunderstand; they ask questions from ignorance. Jesus promises that they will move from misunderstanding to understanding. How will they get this understanding? The Spirit, whom Jesus sends, will teach them, leading them into “all the truth” (John 16:13). In contrast to the first half of verse 23, we can interpret the rest of verses 23b–24 as referring not to inquiry but to supplication (aiteō, 3x), asking for good gifts in Jesus’s name from the Father. Jesus speaks of a coming day when inquiry will cease (for new understanding will come) as an encouragement unto supplication.

The same movement occurs in verses 25–26. What now seems mysterious and “figurative” will soon become “plain” (verse 25), indicating a deepened level of understanding. As a result, asking in Jesus’s name will become possible (verse 26). These verses reproduce exactly the development found verses 23–24: a new Spirit-wrought understanding (verses 23a and 25) leads to freedom to ask the Father for good gifts in Jesus’s name (verses 23b–24 and 26).

Can we discern in this context any specific lesson the Spirit will teach us that might embolden supplication? The key clue comes to light when pressing on the connection between verses 26 and 27. In verse 26, Jesus says again that we can supplicate to the Father in Jesus’s name, and then he immediately clarifies what he does and does not mean. By saying we can appeal to the Father in his name, Jesus does not intend to suggest that the Father will deal with us only at arm’s length, as it were, as though he welcomes Jesus but can’t stand us. We might paraphrase, highlighting with italics the glorious significance of the second person form of aitēsesthe: “You yourselves will make requests to the Father in my name, not only I on your behalf.” For the Father is not disgusted with us, but the very opposite: “for [gar] the Father himself loves you” (verse 27). This is what Jesus’s “name,” and especially his coming departure, his death, prove once and for all. The holy Father loves us, so much so that he gave his Son to perish in our place, that our sins might be forgiven and the pathway opened to his throne. With boldness we can come before the Father with our supplications, knowing that he loves us in Christ.

“The Spirit reveals the cross to us as the answer to all our doubts: the Father loves us in Christ.”

This is the sum of the “all truth” (verse 13) that the Spirit teaches us. The Spirit reveals the cross to us as the answer to all our doubts: the Father loves us in Christ.15 The Spirit persuades us of this truth, so that we cry from our depths, “Abba! Father!” (Romans 8:15; Galatians 4:6). The work of the Spirit among God’s people is, indeed, radically different now than before the cross/resurrection/ascension, so different that we can speak as though the Spirit was “not given” until now. While the Spirit was already present and active in the life of the pre-ascended Jesus (and in the lives of Old Testament saints long before Christ), nevertheless until now God’s people did not know the Spirit as the gift of the crucified, conquering King. They did not know how the King conquered — namely, through being crucified. They did not know the full depth of their plight, which required nothing less than the King’s life in their place. They did not know with assurance why they, unworthy sinners, could expect lavish goodness from the holy God. They had promises to bank on, and merciful tokens of God’s grace to them in the sacrificial system, but they did not have the full demonstration of the holy God’s loving welcome of them, and of the work that secures it, until the cross. And the Spirit had no objective reality to illumine and persuade and assure them by. So truly not until the cross, where the gift of the kingdom poured forth from the side of the King, was the Spirit fully handed over.

Ecclesial Facet

There are many important observations to make about the event of Pentecost, but of particular note for us is that, in Acts 2:2–3, the Spirit’s arrival was marked by thunderous noise (rushing wind) that “filled the whole house,” and tongues of fire coming down from heaven and alighting on the disciples. God’s coming down in fire and sound to “fill a house” is exactly what occurred at the completion of the tabernacle, as the glory-cloud that came down in thundering fire at Sinai proceeded to come down still farther to the ground to “fill” the completed tent (Exodus 19:16–20; 40:34–48). It is also what occurred later at the dedication of Solomon’s temple, as fire came down from heaven to “fill the house” (2 Chronicles 7:1–3; cf. 1 Kings 8:10–11). In like manner, as G.K. Beale trenchantly argues, the pouring out of the Spirit at Pentecost is to be understood as the dedication of God’s new eschatological temple.16

Acts 2 narrates no mere illustration of a universal individual experience but a salvation-historical event. When the fiery Spirit comes down not on the tabernacle/temple but on disciples, a transition is effected from an architectural building to an anthropological building as the dwelling place of the Lord. Other New Testament writers assert that the church is God’s new temple.17 Acts 2 shows when its function as God’s temple was inaugurated. At Pentecost, the church became the place whereby the power of the Spirit the covenantal presence of God is encountered on the ground (see, e.g., Acts 4:31; 5:3, 9; 13:2). If we may rightly speak of the tabernacle/temple as the palatial residence of the cosmic King (see hêkāl in, e.g., 1 Samuel 3:3; Isaiah 6:1; Psalm 11:4), the place where the “footstool” under his exalted throne is located (Psalm 99:5; 132:7), then we can state it in this manner: Pentecost marks out the gathered church as the new royal dwelling from which the ascended King’s presence and rule is now exercised on earth, the new place where the King’s “feet” rest, for here is where people gladly submit to his authority (note Acts 7:46–53).

It is important to clarify who is included in the “people” of the preceding sentence. At Pentecost, representatives “from every nation under heaven” were gathered in Jerusalem (Acts 2:5).18 It is a signal of where the narrative (the mission) is headed: to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8). For Luke, the incorporation of Gentiles into the covenant people is part of the difference the gift of the Spirit at Pentecost makes. Whereas before the glory-cloud covenantal presence of God by his Spirit was limited to the temple located in one place on the globe (Jerusalem), now it is present, and in fact spreading missionally, all over the globe (Acts 8:14–17; 10:44–45). Whereas beforehand God reigned publicly as King over one nation, the nation of Israel, now he is present to rule over and for Gentile nations. Whereas beforehand entrance into the dwelling place of God was restricted to Israelites, now the dwelling place of God is not only open to all peoples, but by the Spirit all peoples are incorporated into it as building materials.

A related point is that before Pentecost, the Spirit’s work seemed mostly limited to key representative figures — prophets, priests, and kings; and these were almost exclusively men. There were some exceptions (e.g., Deborah the prophetess), but locating the Spirit’s presence in their lives is mostly a matter of theological inference and implication: if Deborah was a prophetess, and if other Scriptures indicate that prophetic activity is empowered by the Spirit (e.g., Isaiah 61:1; Ezekiel 2:1–7), then we can conclude that Deborah enjoyed the Spirit. But the text of Judges doesn’t make this explicit claim. In the old covenant, we are explicitly told that the Spirit filled and empowered Moses, for example, and then the seventy elders who were raised up to help govern the people. But Moses longs for the Spirit to fill still more, indeed the whole people of God, leaders and non-leaders alike, public figures and everyday folks out of the limelight (Numbers 11:24–30). The point is that in the old covenant there was not a readily apparent enjoyment of the Spirit on all the people; it was something Moses longed for and looked forward to. But now that Christ has sealed a new covenant in his blood, now that a new creational humanity is beginning in his resurrected body, now that he has ascended as King of a world-transforming kingdom, now that he has poured out his Spirit on “all flesh” (Acts 2:17a), the Spirit is the expectation and certain privilege of all the people of God, young and old, men and women (Acts 2:17b–18).19

With the coming of Christ, all nations can be reconciled to experience unity in their diversity under one true King. In Christ’s kingdom all the dividing lines of other kingdoms of the world are broken down (divisions of tongues, skin colors, blood, and birthplaces; divisions of temporal political allegiance; divisions of age, sex, and economic status). In Christ’s kingdom, diverse and seemingly irreconcilable peoples are made one. And the Spirit is the power uniting them. Where diverse and seemingly incompatible peoples join as one under King Jesus, there we can expect to find the Spirit present and at work.

Eschatological Facet

In considering the experiential facet of the diamond that is the gift of the Spirit after Christ’s ascension, our cues were Johannine. For the ecclesial facet, they were Lukan. Our exploration of the eschatological facet will involve something of a fusion of the testimonies of John and Acts, for they together indicate that receiving the gift of the Spirit from the crucified and risen Christ answers, at the same time, the questions “What time is it?” and “What are we here for?”

John: Drafted as Witnesses

In the Farewell Discourse in John 14–16, Jesus seeks to comfort his disciples with the promise of the Helper’s (the Paraclete’s) ministry among them and in them. Among other things, Jesus assures them that “when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me. And you also will bear witness, because you have been with me from the beginning” (John 15:26–27). The Spirit’s special mission, sent from the throne of the ascended King, is one of witness. And since Jesus immediately pairs the Spirit’s witness with the disciples also bearing witness, we can safely say that the disciples by the empowerment of the Spirit will be swept into this same mission.

“The Spirit’s special mission, sent from the throne of the ascended King, is one of witness.”

“Witness” is one of the central motifs in the Gospel according to John. From the otherwise awkward twofold inclusion of John the Baptist’s mundane testimony to the Light in the exalted “Prologue” about the cosmic, eternal Logos (John 1:6–8, 15),20 to the preponderance of “witness” terminology in the Fourth Gospel (especially in comparison to the Synoptics),21 to the parade of witnesses (in heaven above, on earth below, and from the Scriptures of the past) appearing in the Book of Signs (John 1:19–12:50),22 to Jesus’s assertion that he came into the world for the purpose of witness (John 18:37), to the climactic and singular witness given at the crucifixion (John 19:35), the Gospel according to John is all about witness. But two points must be clarified about the motif of witness in John.

First, “witness” is not, for John, simply a contextless “sharing of Jesus to unbelievers,” however common that assumption might be in today’s popular Christian imagination. For John, witness is a decidedly legal activity.23 One bears testimony in court. Witnesses are needed in a trial. John’s interest in witness, and the Spirit’s activity of and empowering for witness, is owing to the reality of an ongoing trial.

Second, John arguably thinks in terms of a very particular trial that began in Jesus’s life and that is carried on through the Spirit’s post-resurrection ministry in the world. According to the prophetic expectations of Isaiah, in the last days God will put the gods of the nations on trial, exposing them to be false and empty, revealing to all that he is God and no other (Isaiah 41:21–24 is a representative passage).24 Whereas the false gods (or the nations trusting in them) are called to put forth witnesses to prove their case but are unable to do so, God raises up Israel as his witness:

“You are my witnesses,” declares the Lord,     “and my servant whom I have chosen,that you may know and believe me     and understand that I am he.” (Isaiah 43:10)

Sadly, as the larger context of Isaiah indicates, Israel is hardened in unbelief, frozen in fear before the nations, blind to the light. So, far from serving faithfully as God’s witness, they actually find themselves embroiled in their own ongoing legal dispute with God (for disputation between God and Israel, see Isaiah 42:18–25; 43:22–28; 50:1–3). According to Isaiah, God’s promised work of eschatological salvation will involve him taking up the roles of witness, prosecutor, and judge in trials both with Israel and with all the nations to prove to all that “I am he.” But he promises further that despite servant Israel’s disputations with him, nevertheless he will pour out his Spirit on his people as upon dry ground (Isaiah 44:3–5), and they shall spring up with words of faithful witness to the Lord’s mighty works and glorious identity (Isaiah 59:21).

What does this (far too hasty) consideration of the eschatological trials foreseen by Isaiah have to do with the end-time work of the Holy Spirit? As Andrew Lincoln especially has argued, Isaiah’s prophecy about God’s eschatological lawsuit against Israel and the nations funds John’s portrait of a two-level drama about the trial between Jesus and the world.25 In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus is ostensibly on trial first before Israel and then before the world represented by Pilate,26 while at the same time, ironically and in truth, it is Israel and the world being put on trial by the true Judge, Jesus, who comes to reveal the one true God. Jesus is witness (e.g., John 3:11, 32–33; 8:14, 18), attorney (he is the “first Paraclete” alluded to in 14:1627), and judge (John 5:22, 26–27; 9:39), who convicts both Israel and the world of sin by manifesting that “I am” (note Jesus’s seven absolute [i.e., without predicate] “I am” statements in John: 4:26; 6:20; 8:24, 28, 58; 13:19; 18:5, 6, 8). For John, this amounts to the promised eschatological trial and work of salvation foretold by Isaiah, in which God will demonstrate to Israel and the nations that “I am he” (Isaiah 41:4; 43:10, 13; 46:4; 48:12; 52:6).28 And the giving of the Holy Spirit by the glorified Jesus is the guarantee that the trial will continue after Jesus’s departure through the empowerment of witnesses.

The Holy Spirit’s witness, and his empowering of disciples for witness, is proper to the stage of the biblical drama that has been launched with the coming and glorification of Christ. To have the Spirit is not just to be privy to an inner experience. It is less to have access to power that was not previously available. It is rather and especially a sign that we are rooted in a particular act of the drama with new opportunities and vocations fitted to that act. To receive the Spirit is to be enlisted in the eschatological trial of the whole world, in which God demonstrates the wind and emptiness of all idols and the truth of his identity made known in Christ.

Acts: World on Trial

While several have recognized something of the Isaianic background and eschatological significance of the trial motif in John’s Gospel, outside of a suggestive 1990 article by Dennis Johnson,29 few have commented on how a similar point comes to the fore in the book of Acts.30 In Acts, as in John, a preponderance of trial material appears, especially in the final third of the book (but note also Acts 4:1–22; 5:17–42; 6:8–7:60). In Acts 21–28, the Apostle Paul repeatedly appears before judges and magistrates (the Sanhedrin in ch. 23; Felix and Festus in chapters 24–25; Agrippa in chapters 25–26; and the book concludes with Paul awaiting a hearing before Caesar31). The bulk of these chapters is given over to (1) accusations made against Paul, and especially (2) Paul’s repeated defense speeches. More generally, technical or semi-technical legal terminology abounds in the narrative.32 Trial and defense is front and center and belabored in the final chapters of Acts. In this light, Luke Timothy Johnson asks exactly the right question:

Something more than the desire for historical or biographical plentitude is at work. Luke, after all, has shown himself elsewhere to be perfectly capable of passing over years of busy activity with a one-line summary (18:11; 19:10). He could easily have passed over the embarrassment of Paul’s captivity with an equally brief allusion, and moved on to the excitement of the sea voyage to Rome. Why does he linger here?33

In terms of the narrative plotline of the book, this focus on trial and defense is perhaps not surprising since what is arguably the theme verse of the book, Acts 1:8, informs us that this is a story about Spirit-empowered witness (again, witness is at home in a legal context).34

Additionally, it seems certain that Luke would have us identify Paul’s life as, in a manner, a recapitulation of Jesus’s life and mission: as in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus’s public ministry gives way to extended trial scenes before a parade of authorities (first the Sanhedrin, then Herod, then Pilate), so also in Acts Paul’s missionary journeys give way to extended trial scenes before a parade of authorities (the Sanhedrin, Felix and Festus, and Agrippa). In Paul’s life, Christ is, we might say, continuing by his Spirit the work and experience he began in his earthly ministry (see Acts 1:1). So Paul’s experience on trial mirrors that of Jesus.

But there is one glaring difference between Jesus’s trials reported in the Gospel and Paul’s trials in Acts. Whereas Paul repeatedly offers long and pointed defense speeches, Jesus appears unwilling to defend himself. He offers little-to-no defense or testimony, but either simply confirms (or ambiguously restates) the accusations brought against him (“You have said so”) or remains altogether silent (see Luke 22:67–70; 23:3, 9). In David Peterson’s words, “At the time of his trial, Jesus was clearly more restrained than Paul in dealing with his accusers (cf. Lk. 22:63–71; Jn. 18:19–23).”35 Might we look for something to account for this difference?

“To have the Spirit is to find ourselves in the last hour, drafted as witnesses to the resurrection.”

Peterson’s following comment points toward an answer: “He [Jesus] submitted to injustice without complaint to accomplish the redemptive work prescribed for the Servant of the Lord (cf. Is. 53:7–8, cited in Acts 8:32–33).” Isaiah prophesied that God’s work of eschatological salvation would center on a Servant who was silent for the sake of sinners. But as we have seen, Isaiah’s prophetic hope also included a day when those sinners would no longer be silent regarding God. Because of the work of the silent Servant, God’s people would have the Spirit of God fill their mouths, emboldening them to speak (Isaiah 59:2136). There are many reasons for thinking that Isaiah’s prophecy played a major shaping role on the narrative of Acts.37 I suggest that, though little commented upon, the detailed and extended trial scenes in Acts are such a reason. In Acts, Paul (and Peter, and Stephen, and the whole church) is repeatedly on trial, for it is the time of the Isaianic end-time lawsuit against Israel (Jerusalem) and the nations (the ends of the earth), exposing the world’s idols to be impotent and deceptive, proving that the identity of the one true God is revealed in the risen and ascended Christ. Paul may be ostensibly awaiting a hearing before Caesar at the end of Acts, but there is a kingdom (Acts 28:23) over which Caesar does not have authority and whose King holds Caesar and the world accountable. In truth, it is the time when Caesar and all the world must stand before the Judge, must respond to the witnesses the Judge is raising up. And it is the time when the Spirit, as was promised long ago, has finally been poured out to empower such faithful witnesses for mission “to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8).38

This, too, is part of the difference Christ’s ascension and the event of Pentecost makes. To have the Spirit is to find ourselves in the last hour, drafted as witnesses to the resurrection in God’s final legal actions against the world. It is a dangerous mission, a way marked with suffering and persecution, as the church in Acts quickly discovers. But it has a saving aim (Acts 2:21). And our kind Father and victorious King has well equipped us for it, handing over nothing less than the treasure of the kingdom: “When they bring you before the synagogues and the rulers and the authorities, do not be anxious about how you should defend yourself or what you should say, for the Holy Spirit will teach you in that very hour what you ought to say” (Luke 12:11–12).