I feel helpless as I watch and wait with my friends.

Friends with debilitating chronic pain who have no contact with the outside world. Others with all-consuming family situations that leave them exhausted and desperate, with no end in sight. Still more whose lives have been marked by disappointment, by shattered dreams and unfulfilled longings that keep escalating.

As I watch and wait, pray and grieve, I also wonder whether heaven will bring added reward for those who persevere in suffering. Will there be any compensation for those who respond to the loss and the emptiness by leaning into God for fulfillment? Will there be any prize for the sufferer who looks to God for the grace to endure the physical or emotional pain that screams through the night?

Rewards in Heaven?

When I first heard the idea of “rewards in heaven,” I wondered whether it was inconsistent with the doctrine of grace. But then I saw that Scripture is full of references to different rewards in heaven — all of them in response to the working of God’s grace within us.

Among the various rewards Scripture mentions, some will come from the foundation we build on and the work we’ve done (1 Corinthians 3:11–15), and others will be related to our perseverance in afflictions, which are producing unrivaled glory for our future selves. As 2 Corinthians 4:16–17 reminds us, “We do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”

Paul didn’t grow weary in his suffering or lose heart, as God was renewing him daily and assuring him of the coming glory. And Paul understood pain: he was brutally beaten, scourged, and stoned; at points he was near starvation; he was continually burdened for the churches (2 Corinthians 11:23–29). Yet he knew that his pain had a purpose.

The Greek word for “preparing” in 2 Corinthians 4:17 (katergazomai) means “producing, accomplishing, or achieving.” Paul knew affliction would bring about or produce something magnificent later on. Suffering not only develops perseverance and character, teaches us to rely on Christ, enables us to comfort others, and refines our faith on earth; it also results in greater coming glory.

Everyday Surrenders

This hope applies not just to extraordinary suffering like Paul’s, but to all suffering that we surrender to God. When we turn to God and not to the world in our pain, when we bless God rather than curse him, when we trust his goodness rather than doubt his love, we store up heavenly reward. It will draw us closer to Christ today and will result in greater glory later. As John Piper says,

All our troubles — all of them — are on a continuum from easy to horrible . . . whether it is a pimple on prom night to the loss of a child. . . . Any trouble, from the smallest hiccup to the greatest horror . . . [has] the potential for working for us an eternal weight of glory, because the issue is this: Does it throw us on God as our help and our treasure and our joy?

The first time I realized the importance of acknowledging and offering every loss to the Lord was in a conversation with Joni Eareckson Tada. We were having dinner, and I noticed how she couldn’t have each bite of food quite as she wanted, couldn’t get her coffee at exactly the right temperature. When I mentioned it, Joni responded, “With quadriplegia, nothing is exactly the way I want it. But it’s all these little decisions, these everyday things I surrender, the choices I make daily, that will one day shine in glory. These will all count.”

While Joni has been through monumental suffering, our conversation reminded me that she faces the everyday choice, just as we do, to turn to God and depend on him in loss and disappointment. From the unexpected layoff before the holidays, to the relentless sickness that confines us to bed for days, to living for years with a cold and disengaged spouse — in all these trials, as we lay them before the Lord and ask for grace to endure, not only will we grow in our faith, but we’ll also store up a reward.

Broken Ankles to Final Cries

God sees all our suffering. He tenderly cares for us in it. He knows every sleepless night, every unspoken hurt, every agony we endure. We are seen, known, and loved by the God who brings purpose to all our pain.

Even seemingly unseen suffering at the end of our lives has a purpose. While this pain may not change our character or be an earthly example to anyone, God is witness. And as he watches what we endure, our faith will glorify him and receive a reward. As John Piper, addressing those suffering in their final hours, would say,

As God gives you the grace to endure to the end without cursing him, resting in him as much as you can, these next twenty hours are going to make a massive, precious difference in the weight of the glory you experience on the other side. These hours are not pointless. . . . They won’t make your character here shine because you are going to be gone. There will be no character left to shine. But as soon as you cross that line from now to eternity, in some way God is going to show you why those twenty hours were what they were and what they did for you. That’s good news.

This is great news for all of us. All our suffering matters. All our losses and longings, as we turn to Christ in them, will produce a reward for us. From a sprained ankle to a life-changing diagnosis, from the daily sacrifices of quadriplegia to the painful last hours of life, none of it will be wasted.

Sorrow Turned to Joy

One of the greatest joys we can experience is the joy of restoration after loss. Both Psalm 126 and John 16 — the two chapters in the Bible that use the word joy most frequently (in the ESV’s translation) — are about restoration. Psalm 126 says, “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. . . . Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!” (Psalm 126:1, 5). And John 16 says, “You will weep and lament . . . but your sorrow will turn into joy. . . . Your joy [will] be full” (John 16:20, 24).

Jesus tells us that the joy of finding the lost coin is greater than the joy of never losing it. The joy of finding the lost sheep is greater than the joy of simply staying with the sheep in the pen. And the joy of a repentant sinner leads to more joy in heaven among the angels (Luke 15:7). While no one seeks loss, restoration brings us more joy. For everything we’ve suffered, every loss we’ve endured, every unfulfilled desire for which we’ve longed, our joy will be that much deeper when it is restored and fulfilled in heaven.

And as Jonathan Edwards says,

It will be no damp to the happiness of those who have lower degrees of happiness and glory, that there are others advanced in glory above them. For all shall be perfectly happy, everyone shall be perfectly satisfied. Every vessel that is cast into this ocean of happiness is full, though there are some vessels far larger than others. And there shall be no such thing as envy in heaven, but perfect love shall reign through the whole society. (Works of Jonathan Edwards, 50:53)

In heaven, no one will begrudge the faithful sufferer’s rewards, because everyone will be overflowing with joy. We all will be fully satisfied, fully happy, completely fulfilled. But some may be larger vessels of happiness, containing more of heaven’s joys, than others. And perhaps the added reward for persevering through affliction will bring this capacity for more joy.

If you are suffering today, whether through a minor setback or a massive tragedy, don’t lose heart. Turn to the Lord Jesus in it, as you ask for grace to endure it. Trust that your struggle is producing an eternal weight of glory that will far surpass your pain. Let God be your treasure even in your affliction. And as you trust him to the end, your reward will be great.

ABSTRACT: The two major positions on lying (lying as communicating contrary to neighbor love and lying as communicating contrary to what one thinks or knows), while offering helpful insights, do not fully account for the biblical data. A Christian ethic of truth-telling begins by defining truthfulness and lying in conformity with God’s character as the primary principle, allowing the previous emphases on love for neighbor and conformity to thought to function as regulating principles.

For our ongoing series of feature articles for pastors and Christian leaders, we asked Daniel R. Heimbach (PhD, Drew University Graduate School), retired senior research professor of Christian ethics at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, to explain how Christians have approached the ethics of truth-telling and to assess how those positions align with the complexity of biblical testimony.

Augustine once said, “Whether we should ever tell a lie if it be for someone’s welfare is a question that has vexed even the most learned.”1 And that is because, while the Bible shows that God demands truthfulness (Exodus 20:16; Zechariah 8:16; Ephesians 4:25), it also shows that God expects less than complete candor in some circumstances (1 Samuel 16:1–5; 2 Kings 6:14–20), that he uses lies for divine purposes (1 Kings 22:19–23; 2 Thessalonians 2:11), and that he commends people who demonstrate faithfulness to God by misleading enemies of God (Joshua 2:4–6; Hebrews 11:31; James 2:25).

These anomalies have led Christians to formulate two quite contrary positions on how best to interpret what the Bible says on the ethics of truth-telling: the first, formulated by the early church, views lying as communicating contrary to neighbor love; the second, first formulated by Augustine, views lying as communicating contrary to what one thinks or knows.2

The first position holds that communicating contrary to what one thinks or knows is sometimes right and true, because what makes communicating wrong and untrue is betraying a relational trust. According to this tradition, communicating in ways driven by neighbor love is right and true even if one’s words do not always align with what one thinks or knows is true.

The second position holds that communicating contrary to what one thinks or knows is necessarily wrong because inconsistency between what is communicated and what one believes to be true is always wrong. According to this tradition, speaking in line with what one thinks or knows is always right, even at the cost of betraying good people and allowing bad people to do wicked things.

I believe both traditionally held positions are partially right but also fall short of what the whole word of God says about communicating faithfully. In this essay, I aim first to review what the Bible says on this important subject and then argue for a position that helps resolve some of the tension between the traditionally held views.

Six Observations from Scripture

We can make at least six important observations concerning what the Bible says about communicating truthfully and being true.

1. God is the standard of truth.

First, the word of God identifies speaking truthfully with God and speaking untruthfully with opposition to him. God declares, “I the Lord speak the truth; I declare what is right” (Isaiah 45:19). God not only speaks truthfully but is the source and measure of truth. God is essentially “righteous and true” (Deuteronomy 32:3–4 CSB). He does not measure up to truth but rather is Truth Itself. When the Bible says God is “the God of truth” (Isaiah 65:16), it means not just that he is truthful, but that he is the standard to which everything true aligns.

Thus, everything God says is necessarily true (2 Samuel 22:31; Psalm 119:160), everything he reveals is necessarily true (Proverbs 30:5), everything he does accords with truth (Deuteronomy 32:4; Psalm 25:10; 145:17), and he can never be untrue (Numbers 23:19; Titus 1:2). When God says he delights in truth (Psalm 51:6) and commands us to speak truthfully (Zechariah 8:16; Ephesians 4:25), he calls us to be like him (Leviticus 19:2; 1 Peter 1:16).

2. The Bible sometimes commends misleading speech.

Second, while the Bible stresses the sanctity of truth and condemns what is untrue, it also includes passages in which communicating contrary to what is known so as to mislead bad people is treated either without disapproval or with commendation.

The Hebrew midwives deceive Pharaoh to save babies (Exodus 1:15–21).
Rahab deceives a king to save spies (Joshua 2:1–7; 6:17, 25; Hebrews 11:31; James 2:25).
God orders Israel to ambush the men of Ai (Joshua 8:3–8).
Jael deceives the Canaanite general Sisera (Judges 4:18–21; 5:24–27).
God develops a cover story to deceive Saul (1 Samuel 16:1–5).
Michal deceives Saul to protect David (1 Samuel 19:12–17).
David tells Jonathan to cover his absence by deceiving Saul (1 Samuel 20:6); Jonathan then deceives Saul to protect David (1 Samuel 20:28–29).
David deceives Ahimelech the priest about the mission he is on (1 Samuel 21:2).
David deceives the people of Gath by feigning madness (1 Samuel 21:13).
David deceives Achish about where he was raiding (1 Samuel 27:10).
David deceives Achish about his real allegiance (1 Samuel 29:8–9).
David tells Hushai to deceive Absalom by giving bad advice (2 Samuel 15:34); Hushai then deceives Absalom this way (2 Samuel 17:5–13), and God ensures Absalom is ruined by Hushai’s deceitful advice (2 Samuel 17:14).
A woman deceives Absalom’s men to save David’s men (2 Samuel 17:19–20).
Elisha deceives Syrians sent to arrest him (2 Kings 6:14–20).
Jeremiah deceives people to keep secret God’s message to Zedekiah (Jeremiah 38:24–27).
God says he will himself deceive false prophets (Ezekiel 14:9).

In these passages, bad people are misled, and Scripture treats these episodes either as if nothing wrong happened or as if the deceptions were good. While God never is false and never wants us to be, the Bible shows that God sometimes wants good people to mislead bad people.

3. God’s speech fits the worthiness of the recipient.

Third, God himself is not always straightforward. In several places, the Bible refers to God sending “a lying spirit” or “strong delusion” by which bad people are led to think and believe something untrue (1 Kings 22:19–23; 2 Chronicles 18:20–22; 2 Thessalonians 2:11). In such scenarios, theologians debate whether God uses the sinfulness of bad people against them or whether he deceives them himself. However these passages are interpreted, Psalm 18:25–26 indicates that God adjusts how he communicates to fit the worthiness of those addressed.

There David says, “With the merciful you show yourself merciful; with the blameless man you show yourself blameless; with the purified you show yourself pure; and with the crooked you make yourself seem [something else].”3 Translators struggle with that last word. The Christian Standard Bible and the New International Version use “shrewd,” the English Standard Version uses “tortuous,” the New American Standard Bible uses “astute,” the King James Version uses “unsavory,” and the New Revised Standard Version uses “perverse.” No English word easily captures what it means.

“The Bible never separates communicating truly with being true.”

But the core idea is plain: God communicates clearly with people who want to hear and accept what is true, and he communicates in ways hard to grasp when speaking with people who do not want to hear and accept what is true. Some people, it would seem, are not worthy of receiving clear communication. Nothing God says is untrue (Psalm 25:10), but he adjusts how he communicates to fit the worthiness of those to whom he speaks.

4. God’s ways transcend our comprehension.

Fourth, the Bible insists God’s ways are beyond human ability to fully comprehend. God is infinite. Everything he does or says has dimensions transcending human comprehension. For God, communicating truly is not the same as communicating exhaustively (and that is true for us as well). So, when interpreting what the Bible says about the ethics of faithful communication, we accept what we read, even if it does not fit what we expect or what we think it should say.

So, if someone explains the biblical truth ethic in a manner that makes perfect sense to us, we do well to suspect either that the explanation is wrong or that it distorts how God defines truth-telling in some way. When Scripture says, “God is not man, that he should lie” (Numbers 23:19), it suggests that God’s definition of truth and the truth ethic is not affected by human conventions and that none of the ways humans define or interpret truth-telling on their own are entirely correct.

5. Truth is practiced, not just spoken.

Fifth, the Bible never separates communicating truly from being true. God not only communicates truly but is Truth Itself. He is the essence, measure, origin, and definer of truth. He is the one without which nothing is true. As we communicate truly, we become more godly; as we become more godly, we communicate more truly.

First John 1:6 expresses this reality: “If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth.” John later adds that “when [Jesus] appears we shall be like him,” and “everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure” (1 John 3:2–3). In other words, the truth ethic is something practiced, not just verbalized.

6. Communicating accurately is sometimes wrong.

Sixth, in two places the Bible treats communicating accurately as morally wrong. The first is where Doeg the Edomite betrays David (1 Samuel 22:9–10), and the second is where Judas Iscariot betrays Jesus (Matthew 26:21–25). Each speaks in line with what he has in mind and states facts accurately, and yet the way each speaks is viewed as untrue in the sense of being morally wrong.

As James explains, communicating truthfully the way God defines it depends more on a speaker’s heart condition than on mere self-consistency or neighborliness. “If you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. . . . For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice” (James 3:14, 16). A bad heart can make what one says ethically false even if it is factually correct, aligns with what one thinks, and is considered neighborly in some way.

Anthropocentric Divide

Although both traditional explanations are able to account for some of the above observations, neither has been able to draw all of them into a coherent ethic of truth-telling. The reason seems to be that both approach the matter from an anthropocentric posture. One measures truth by consistency with human neighbors and the other by consistency with what a person has in his own mind.

By contrast, the Bible treats truthful communication in a theocentric manner and assumes that anything else distorts the biblical norm. Thus, in order to account for all six observations, we could describe lying not as communicating contrary to neighbor love or communicating contrary to what one thinks or knows, but as communicating contrary to God. This third position understands that what biblically true communication requires cannot be grasped apart from God. In this view, truth is not something by which we measure God, but something by which God measures us.

Division between the inherited traditions reduces to different ways of conceiving the wrong that occurs in untrue communication. If truthfulness means preserving relational trust (position one), the wrong of untruth occurs in betraying a trust relationship, as measured by others trusting us. If truthfulness means accurate alignment of words with thoughts (position two), the wrong of untruth arises in discord between them. If truthfulness means fulfilling a mission assigned by God (position three), however, the wrong of untruth occurs in hindering a divine mission or purpose, however words align with thoughts and however they affect those trusting us for their own reasons.

The main difference between the first and second positions has to do with how communicating truly and lying are defined. What Christians held before Augustine was not precise, but they generally aligned communicating truly with neighbor love, thus making it relational. During the early years of persecution before Constantine (AD 35–313), they justified communicating contrary to thought in order to save innocent people. The weakness of this approach is that neighbor love can be interpreted in subjectively sentimental terms.4

Augustine meant to purge the church from ethical relativity and generally did so by applying Scripture. But when it came to interpreting the sanctity of truth, he started with definitions of truthfulness and lying that came from Greek philosophy and not actually from the Bible itself. Thus, neither of the traditions dividing Christian ethics on this point actually defines truthful communication in biblically grounded, God-centered terms.

Theocentric Solution

Although Christianity has historically been divided on the ethics of truth-telling, God’s ethical reality is not. The coherence of God demands a single, coherent answer, and there are just three possibilities: (1) lying as communicating contrary to neighbor love; (2) lying as communicating contrary to what one thinks or knows; or (3) a category that transcends both — one that defines truthfulness and lying in ways that are neither neighbor-focused nor self-focused, but rather God-focused.

Ultimate Truth is a person (John 14:6); therefore, the sanctity of truth is ultimately personal and relational, not abstract and impersonal — not a concept, principle, or rule standing off by itself over and against God. All truly true truth comes from, relates to, and serves God (Romans 11:36); therefore, the obligation to communicate truly and to be true reduces to fidelity to God. In other words, moral communication primarily concerns fidelity to the One who is Truth Itself.

How this communication relates to neighbors, thoughts, or facts is secondary. While fidelity to our neighbors, our own thoughts, and to facts makes good sense, this fidelity is not an absolute in its own right. What it means and requires in any given situation depends on what the word of God says. After all, God is he who “[declares] what is right” (Isaiah 45:19), and fearing God is the only way to avoid “perverse speech” (Proverbs 8:13 CSB).

Jesus declares that he is himself “the truth” (John 14:6), and John says he is “full of . . . truth” (John 1:14). Jesus did not measure up to any humanly conceived notion of truth. Rather, being God, he was and is the source, measure, and end of everything true, including truthful speaking. He is not an instance of truth conceived in terms other than himself, but rather is Truth Itself.

When Jesus said, “Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice,” Pilate asked, “What is truth?” (John 18:37–38). Pilate understood Jesus to be saying something momentous. Jesus was claiming that all true communication and being true, all accuracy and meaning, all genuinely reliable existence, behavior, understanding, and conveying of information one to another is of and through himself — and that conceiving otherwise is false.

The lying as communicating contrary to God position subordinates, but does not discard, the traditional positions. It allows the other positions to serve subordinate roles. That is, loving neighbors and self-consistency can be viewed as regulating principles pointing toward what faithful communication most often requires. Pleasing Christ is the only absolute governing the biblical truth ethic. The regulating principles tell us what that ethic usually requires. But where the word of God says otherwise, we must follow. The primary principle of cohering to God himself supersedes the regulating principles of loving neighbors and self-consistency.

In the Bible, obligation to communicate truly and be true has two dimensions: one vertical in relation to God and one horizontal in relation to others. Communicating truly and being true involves both God and others. They are unconditional in relation to God, but they are conditional in relation to others, always depending on how they affect fidelity to God. The Bible refers to this condition as “the fear of God.”

Scripture tells us that “to fear the Lord is to hate . . . perverse speech” (Proverbs 8:13 CSB), and then it also tells us the Hebrew midwives and Rahab communicated as they did because they “feared” God (Exodus 1:17–21; Joshua 2:9–11). Because of this, and because Scripture regards the act by which Rahab protected the spies as a good example of faith pleasing to God (Hebrews 11:31), we should stop treating these accounts as “difficult” and should instead accept them as places where God explains how the way he defines communicating truly and being true differs from what we expect.

God uses these accounts to show that communication must be unconditionally true and faithful to himself and conditionally true and faithful to anyone or anything else. The midwives and Rahab demonstrated truthful communication the way God defines it.

The God Who Is Truth

Ethics is, at heart, a matter of worship that leaves two options. We can worship God or some guise of the devil; there is no middle ground. “Whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God” (James 4:4). We communicate either in step with God or in step with the devil. Conceiving of truth any other way skews or ignores the essential ethical questions at the heart of all truly true truth: “True by what measure?” or “True to whom?”

You cannot be true to the devil and to Christ at the same time, and you cannot communicate truly with both, in reference to both, or with the emissaries of both at the same time. Fidelity to ultimate truth requires infidelity to ultimate falsehood. Which is to say, communicating truly comes from Christ (1 Peter 3:15–16), and communicating untruly comes from hell (James 3:6).

This third position resolving the divide between self-consistency and neighbor love agrees with Allen Verhey’s caution: “God is Truth, but truth is not a second god.”5 There is a connection between God and truth, but it is not reciprocal. What we know of truth says something of God. But what we think of truth does not define God. Our understanding of truth does not limit God; at best, it only reflects God. To know truth truly, one must focus on God as he has revealed himself. Faithful communication depends on him and centers on him, not on us.

This study of the truth ethic reveals how God’s ordering of ethical reality is at once highly complex and united by a deep simplicity centered on God himself. It also demonstrates the paradoxical nature of revealed ethics. The biblically revealed ethic of communicating truly and being true, while consistent, absolute, universal, and unvarying, also runs contrary to human expectations. It is not self-contradictory but has marks of a mind transcending our own. It is not what most people think because it is more complex, deeper, and measured by a higher standard than most expect.

Yet at the same time, it is easy enough for anyone believing in the One who transcends human understanding to grasp, plain enough to convict sinners of deserved judgment, and sufficient to guide what we say and do in all situations arising in this fallen, fallible world.

Audio Transcript

Christmas is Saturday. It’s a great time to take a fresh look at Christmas, particularly in what Christ’s birth represents in the big picture. As the apostle Paul says of us, Christians are those “on whom the end of the ages has come” (1 Corinthians 10:11). The end of the ages has come upon us, and the end of the ages has come upon us by the incarnation of Jesus Christ.

This is a big concept — a hard one. But it’s worth our time. Theologian Richard Gaffin has developed this point well in a really good book, his magnum opus coming out next year, which is titled In the Fullness of Time: An Introduction to the Biblical Theology of Acts and Paul (Crossway, May 2022). There he describes why the apostle Paul was so amazed that he — and us — is one upon which “the end of the ages has come.” Paul, he writes, is

deeply conscious of living in “the fullness of time,” when, at last, God has sent his Son and when the new creation has already dawned. His vantage point in history is characterized by the fact that he is privileged to be able now to look back on the climactic events of the history of redemption, the [birth and] death and resurrection of Christ, as having occurred. Using a sometimes-cited analogy from the Second World War, Paul knows himself to be among those for whom the great D-Day kingdom battle is over, for whom the era of conflict between the kingdom of God and the dominion of Satan is in the past and has been decisively resolved; the redemption of God’s people is an accomplished and secure reality.

D-Day is done. V-Day is yet future, in the second coming. Nevertheless, D-Day, the decisive battle, is over. It has been won. The kingdom has dawned. In other words, Gaffin writes, “God’s revelation in his Son, in his incarnate person and work . . . has a finality that cannot be superseded or surpassed.”

That’s the significance of the incarnation. The new creation has arrived. The kingdom of God has dawned. The future full arrival of the kingdom and the new creation, or V-Day, is now inevitable and unstoppable because there is a finality to redemptive history at Christmas. Paul never lost his amazement that something climactic, something decisive, something marking the end of time happened in a dusty manger in Bethlehem.

To use the apostle Paul’s very words: “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Galatians 4:4–5). That first Christmas marked the fullness of time. Or to say it another way, history ended on Christmas, as John Piper explains in this clip from his 1981 Christmas sermon, preached forty years ago. Here he is.

The meaning of Christmas was a total blur for some thirty years until the apostles broke through to this insight: “Oh, this is the first half of the final act of redemption, and the second half will only come later.” When they finally saw that, God counted them prepared to interpret Christmas for us. And that’s what they did in the New Testament, interpreting the incarnation in view of the second coming.

“The apostles do not treat Christmas as another bend in redemptive history. History ended at Christmas.”

Everything they wrote in their interpretation of the incarnation has a trademark about it. It’s a very unusual trademark that stamps it as apostolic, the words of the apostles. The trademark is that even though the apostles look forward to the second appearance of the coming of the Messiah, they nevertheless called the first appearing of the Messiah the end of the ages. History ended at Christmas. That’s the trademark of the apostles. They do not treat Christmas as just another bend in the river of redemptive history. With Christmas comes the end.

Christ’s Birth, Time’s End

Let me show you some examples of where this trademark is found. In 1 Corinthians 10:11, the apostle Paul says that all the events of the Old Testament “happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come.” That’s Paul speaking two thousand years ago: “The end of the ages has fallen upon us.”

Do you remember what the apostle Peter said when he stood up on Pentecost to interpret what was happening in the fall of the Holy Spirit? Quoting Joel, he said, “This is what was uttered through the prophet Joel: ‘And in the last days it shall be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit’” (Acts 2:16–17). Those were the last days.

Again, the apostle Peter wrote in 1 Peter 1:20 that “[Christ] was foreknown before the foundation of the world but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you.” Christ was made manifest at the end of the times. The appearing of Jesus at Christmas marked the end of the times — or, as Paul called it, “the end of the ages.”

Here’s one more text, Hebrews 9:26–28. It is especially important because, here, the two comings of the Messiah are held side by side, and still the first one is called the end. The text says,

[Christ] has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him. (Hebrews 9:26–28)

What this text shows is that even though time had elapsed between Christmas and the writing of Hebrews, and the author looked forward to another uncertain elapse of time until that second appearing, nevertheless he still looked back and said that Christ’s first coming was the end of the age.

That’s the trademark of the apostles. That’s the way they thought about Christmas. And I think the Holy Spirit preserves that trademark for us because there is a tremendously important truth in it. Namely, don’t trivialize Christmas into just another great event in the stream of redemptive history.

How Christmas Tastes

Creation out of nothing was an awesome event. I try to imagine what the angels thought when matter, the universe, flashed into existence at the word of God. They never could have imagined such a thing, and there it was. The fall was an awful event that shook creation. The exodus was an amazing display of power and love. The giving of the law, the wandering in the wilderness, the conquest of Canaan, the rise of the monarchy, the prophetic word — all great demonstrations of the power of God along the river of redemptive history.

But don’t align Christmas on the same continuum with those great events. We trivialize the incarnation if we make it just another stage along the way to the end. It is the end of redemptive history, and I think the analogy of the river helps us see how.

Picture the Mississippi River, running all the way to the Gulf. Picture redemptive history now, flowing from creation right on through as a river. Picture the ocean into which it is flowing as the final kingdom of God — eternal and glorious beyond all description. At the mouth, or the end, of this river, the ocean presses back with its salt water some way up into the river. I’ve always wondered what kind of fish live in this no man’s land, where the freshwater and the salt water are mingling, where the river meets the ocean.

“Taste Jesus Christ. Taste his birth, life, death, and resurrection. Has not the kingdom arrived?”

Therefore, at the mouth of the river there’s a mingling of freshwater and salt water. One might say that the kingdom has pressed its way back up into the stream of history a short way. It has surprised the travelers on that river very, very much. They can taste it if they put their oar down into the water. They can smell it. They can see the seagull circling the deck. The end has come upon them, even though they’re still on the river.

Christmas is not just another bend in that river. Christmas is the arrival of the salt water of the kingdom, backing up into the river for some way. That salt water is beckoning us, welcoming us, alluring us out into the deep. Christmas is not just another great bend in the river. It is the end of the river.

Let down your oar. Taste Jesus Christ. Taste his birth, his life, his death, his resurrection. Has not the age to come fallen upon us? Has not the kingdom arrived? Do you not taste the powers of the age to come? I think those who can taste it lift up their eyes, and they see a big blue bow on the horizon between sky and ocean. And they are hankering and longing to go out of the delta, out of the mouth of the river, into the ocean.