He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power.
The practical goal of the book of Hebrews is to encourage the original audience to continue trusting in and following Christ. Some were tempted to escape persecution (Heb. 10:32-34) by renouncing their faith in Christ and reverting to Judaism. The writer challenges them to remain faithful to Jesus with a number of arguments which all make the same basic point: Jesus is superior. Jesus is greater than the angels and Moses, the Mosaic priesthood and sacrifices. Jesus is preeminent. Therefore, serve him with a whole heart.
While we may not be tempted to turn from Jesus to Judaism, we may subtly turn from him by mentally diminishing his exalted status. This is a real temptation in a culture set on “taming” Jesus by speaking of him as a mere human, a prophet, or an ethical teacher on par with others. Dorothy Sayers once wrote of this watering-down of Jesus in her Letters to a Diminished Church
“The people who hanged Christ never, to do them justice, accused him of being a bore—on the contrary, they thought him too dynamic to be safe. It has been left for later generations to muffle up that shattering personality and surround him with an atmosphere of tedium. We have efficiently pared the claws of the Lion of Judah, certified him “meek and mild” and recommended him as a fitting household pet for pale curates and pious old ladies.”
In this one verse (Hebrews 1:3), the writer makes three astonishing claims about who Jesus is.
He is “the radiance of the glory of God.” Jesus is to God as the rays of light are to the sun. “Glory” refers to the luminous manifestation of God’s presence (Ex. 16:7; 33:18; Isa. 40:5; 60:1-3). “Radiance” is the splendor and intense brightness that his glory brings. Just as the brightness of the light cannot be separated from the light itself, to see Jesus is to see God’s glory (Jn. 1:14; 2:11; 8:12; 17:5).
He is “the exact imprint of his nature.” Jesus is to God as the wax impression is to the signet ring. Though all humans are stamped with the divine image (Gen. 1:26-27), Jesus was the only human in whom that divine image was not obscured and defaced by sin. The “imprint” or the essential nature of God is seen perfectly in the face of Jesus (Jn. 1:2, 18; 14:9; Phil. 2:6; Col. 1:15).
Finally, “he upholds the universe by the word of his power.” Jesus is both the agent (Heb. 1:2) and sustainer of creation. “All things were created through him and for him… and in him all things hold together” (Col. 1:16-17; Jn. 1:3). The universe was created by the word through the Son (Heb. 1:2; 11:3) and continues to be managed and governed by that same powerful word. Just as all creation originated from him in the beginning, all creation will be subjected to him in the end (Heb. 1:13; 2:5, 8; 1 Cor. 15:28).
Let’s put this into perspective. The distance between the earth and the sun is about 92 million miles. Let’s represent that 92-million-mile distance with the thickness of a sheet of paper. If the thickness of a sheet of paper represents 92 million miles then the distance from here to the nearest star would be a stack of papers 70 feet high and the width of our galaxy would be a stack of papers 310 miles high. This is just our galaxy, the Milky Way. How vast is our universe? How many galaxies does it contain? Our Lord Jesus knows and is able to hold it all together by the “word of his power.”
Who, then, is Jesus and who are we in relation to him? He is not someone we simply invite into our lives if it pleases us. He is nothing less than the Lord of the universe. God help us to remove all limits of our devotion and love toward our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
The watchwords of last century’s modernism were knowledge, science, progress, certainty, and, above all, reason. It was an era of almost total self-confidence. But our postmodern 21st century proclaims the collapse of the enlightenment vision and revolts against all claims to certainty. Now, nothing is certain, except perhaps the certainty that we lack all certainty. Everything is characterized by disillusion and doubt. For this reason, many view the apostle Thomas sympathetically, perhaps even with sneaking admiration, as being an honest skeptic. He flatly refused to believe the news of Jesus’ resurrection without seeing the evidence himself: “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” (Jn. 20:25b) We too often struggle with doubt and, like Thomas, lay down the conditions on which we are prepared to believe. But consider Thomas’ pilgrimage from doubt to faith.
Thomas the absentee — On the evening of resurrection Sunday, the risen Lord appeared to the apostles and commissioned them (Jn. 20:19-23). “But Thomas… was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples were telling him, “We’ve seen the Lord!””... (Jn. 20:24-25a) and, as mentioned above, Thomas didn’t believe their testimony. The reason for his unbelief was his absence from that first resurrection appearance. We are not told the reason for his absence (deliberate or not), but the fact remains that Thomas missed the blessing because he wasn’t with the other apostles. Something similar happens every Sunday to those who, for whatever reason, are absent from the assembly of the saints. There is spiritual risk in spasmodic church attendance while there is spiritual blessing in disciplined, regular attendance. Fortunately, Thomas did not repeat his error. He was in his place the following Sunday and was blessed (Jn. 20:26).
Thomas the skeptic — Thomas wouldn’t believe the good news unless he saw the evidence himself (Jn. 20:25b). To be fair, the other apostles had seen and believed; isn’t it reasonable for Thomas to demand a similar experience? Although Jesus condescended to Thomas’ demands (“Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” Jn. 20:27), he pronounced a blessing on “those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (Jn. 20:29) Notice Jesus commended not faith without evidence but faith without sight (2 Cor. 5:7). We come to our convictions in two ways: (1) by experiencing it ourselves and (2) through the credible testimony of others. For this reason, Thomas should have believed based on the eyewitness testimony of those he knew to be sober-minded and honest people. Faith is based on the testimony of eyewitnesses. In fact, John wrote his book so that those who were not present can believe on the testimony of those who were (Jn. 20:30-31).
Thomas the believer — Once Thomas saw, he not only believed but he worshiped, saying “My Lord and my God!” (Jn. 20:28) As soon as Thomas saw the evidence, he believed. And as soon as he believed, he worshiped. Notice that although Jesus rebuked his unbelief, he then accepted his believing worship. Tradition tells us that Thomas became a great missionary in India and died for his faith. Although none of his writings have survived today, I am sure he would have urged his audience not to repeat his error but rather to believe in the risen Lord based on his own testimony and “by believing… have life in his name.” (Jn. 20:31) Therefore, testimony is the way to faith and faith is the way to life. Paul says, “the righteous shall live by faith" and "faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 1:17; 10:17).
The sum of your word is truth,
and every one of your righteous rules endures forever.
One of the most common questions people ask concerning the Bible is how we know with any degree of certainty that our modern English translations are anything close to what the original authors wrote (the autographs). Beneath this question lies a number of skeptical assumptions: The texts have been copied and recopied so many times that errors must have crept in at some point. Those errors would then be compounded over a 2,000 year-long game of “telephone.” Add to that the translation from one language to another and you end up with a recipe for inaccuracy.
Another common question is how we came to have only these 27 books in our New Testament while other writings were left out. What if those other books, such as the “gospel of Thomas” or those attributed to Judas, James, Nicodemus and Peter, are “inspired” writings too? Who gets to determine canonicity anyway? Is our current New Testament just a result of ecclesiastical politics? Let’s briefly address these questions.
Text and Translation — We have over 5,700 handwritten Greek manuscripts of part or all of the New Testament today. These range from small scraps with a few verses to completed copies of the New Testament. This large body of textual resources continues to grow (in number and in the amount of text represented) and stretches from the early second century to the invention of the printing press in the fifteenth century. In addition, we have over 15,000 translations (which all required a source) and the writings of early Christians (which quote the New Testament extensively). In terms of manuscript evidence, we have an “embarrassment of riches.” We are not 2,000 years removed from the original documents but, in some cases, only a few decades (Google John Ryland’s papyrus P52 and you’ll see what I mean). This means transmission and translation of the text was no “telephone” game.
When compared with one another, textual critics find a remarkable degree of agreement between the manuscripts which speaks to the great care and accuracy with which they were copied. Most of the textual variants (the differences between them) are due to alternate spellings, the accidental omission or repetition of a letter, the substitution of a word with its synonym, etc. None of these variants change the message or meaning of Christianity in the least.
The formation of canon — Lists of books believed to be canonical (on par with the Hebrew Scriptures as God’s inspired word) were compiled as early as the second century. This was necessary to distance them from heretical Gnostic writings such as the so-called “Gospel of Thomas” and others previously mentioned. As time drew on, agreement on the number the books considered canon grew, until they were formally listed by Athanasius in AD 367. While the second-century writings of the early “church fathers” were considered (and rightly dismissed), the Gnostic writings were never even considered serious candidates for inclusion.
When held up to the 27 books which comprise our New Testament, these writings failed to meet the major criteria set by those councils: apostolicity (that a book was either written by an apostle or a close associate with an apostle), coherence (not contradicting previously accepted Scripture) and catholicity (widespread acceptance by the early Christian community). These apocryphal writings fair no better today. They lack both the historical and textual witness of the originals as well as the content and structure of the originals. For example, they say nothing of Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection, the very heart of the gospel message (1 Cor. 15:3-4). We have no reason for placing any confidence in those extra-canonical books and every reason for confidence in the 27 books we do have.
How long will you lie there, O sluggard?
When will you arise from your sleep?
A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest
The "sluggard" is a figure of "tragi-comedy" (Derek Kidner): comedy because he is funny; tragedy because only sin can so debase a person. The image bearers of God were not meant to yawn through life. The wise are meant to read Proverbs and see their own inner sluggard (1:5-6), telling them to sleep when they should rise, rest when they should work, and eat when they should move. The wise know the sluggard is not an abnormality but an ordinary person who has made too many excuses. Laziness develops as imperceptibly and pleasantly as falling asleep. Let's look at four sayings of our inner sluggard.
"I need just a little more" (Prov. 6:9-11; 24:30-34; 19:24). These words are the sluggard's favorite response to wisdom. Laziness often lies behind that seemingly innocuous phrase "just a little more." What harm could a little do? What is one more snooze cycle? One more refreshing of the social media timeline? One more episode? Not much by itself, perhaps, but ten thousand "little mores" piled on top of one another amounts to quite a lot. Sluggards develop habits one small surrender at a time.
But this works both ways. Diligence develops habits by facing one small unpleasant task at a time. "A little labor, a little energy, a little moving of the hands to work" gets the job done. Instead of stacking up small surrenders, the diligent stack small successes by the strength which God supplies. Over time, how we handle the little things has a big effect (Mt. 25:23).
"I can do it tomorrow" (Prov. 20:4; 19:15; 24:30-34). If the sluggard's conscience should protest against "just a little more," he has another word at his disposal that rarely fails: tomorrow. In Palestine, autumn is the season for plowing and planting while summer is the season of the harvest. For some reason, "the sluggard does not plow in autumn" (perhaps, as the KJV suggests "by reason of the cold"). He justifies putting off work in the hope he could always do it tomorrow. But then he wakes up with nothing. The time for planting and plowing has passed. Tomorrow came but by then it was too late.
We often do this. The conversation we should initiate today or the forgiveness we should seek today is put off until tomorrow. Whatever is put off today is harder to seek tomorrow. We may find that the opportunity has slipped away. Wisdom teaches us to take the farmer's view of life. That is, we must take advantage of the season rather than living by our feelings. We can't finish a work we never start (Prov. 14:23). We are not promised tomorrow anyway (Jas. 4:14). Therefore, the old adage is true: "don't put off for tomorrow what can be done today."
"I would be putting myself at risk" (Prov. 22:13; 26:13). Indulging a bad excuse is a little like feeding a pigeon: give bread to one and more will come. Bad excuses breed bad (and worse) excuses over time. When a loved one refuses to entertain the sluggard's "littles" and "tomorrows," he takes more radical measures: "haven't you seen the lion roaming the streets? I'll die!" It sounds absurd but "laziness is a great lion-maker. He who does little dreams much" (Spurgeon). There is no shortage of dangers, real or imagined, in the world which the sluggard can use to excuse himself from his duties. If there is something we don't want to do our inner sluggard will concoct an excuse.
On the other hand, wisdom teaches us to prioritize our duties with no excuses. If something is truly important to us, we will find a way to see it done. This involves taking some risk but, as with all important things in life, the greater risk would be doing nothing. We should never avoid doing what ought to be done because it is "dangerous" or "risky." "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of a living God" (Heb. 10:31). We must fear God above any potential risk for doing what is right (Mt. 10:28).
"You don't know the pressures I'm under" (Prov. 26:12-16). The sluggard disguises his laziness with euphemisms. He is not a shirker but a realist (v.13); he is not self-indulgent but just not a morning person (v.14); he is not lazy but doesn't want to be rushed (v.15); he even regards himself as wise (v.12). Our laziness often becomes apparent when we try to defend ourselves against it. Self-pity is another favorite excuse because the sluggard's work is always the hardest work, his excuses are the best excuses, his diversions are the most reasonable diversions - no matter what others might say.
But the wise learn to be distrustful of their own hearts (Jer. 17:9). They "lean not" on their own understanding but trust in the Lord (Prov. 3:5). Rather than responding to challenges with the self-pitying excuse "Don't you see my burdens?" they remember their proneness to folly and learn to ruthlessly condemn their inner sluggard.
Christ provides us with the pattern for all things. He was not a "workaholic" (he knew how to rest, feast, sleep, and enjoy himself) but he also knew how to work. Scripture speaks of the "steadfastness of Christ" (1 Thess. 3:5), his diligence in working while it was day (Jn. 9:4). He plowed in the autumn, forsaking every excuse, and reaped in due season. He never cried out "Lion!" but walked into the lion's den for us (Psa. 22:21). Therefore, Paul tells the sluggard, "Now such persons we command and encourage in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living." (2 Thess. 3:12).
The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
Our New Testament begins with the books Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, which are sometimes called “the Gospels.” However, it would be more appropriate to call them “The gospel according to Matthew, Mark…” etc. because there is only one gospel message (Gal. 1:6-9). The word “gospel” (= “good news”) is used to describe the message of God’s saving act in his Son (Mk. 1:1, 14-15; Rom. 1:16; 1 Cor. 15:1). Not until Justin in the second century were these accounts referred to as “the Gospels,” their own literary genre.
Though they lack some key features of traditional histories and biographies (for example, there is not much said about Jesus’ childhood and they do not always adhere to strict chronology), they best fit within these categories and give us a helpful framework to understand them. Though each account is unique, they all start, in some way, with the beginning of Jesus’ work on earth and end with his crucifixion and resurrection. This separates them from second and third century documents like the so-called “gospels” of Thomas or Peter which were written later and ascribed to the apostles.
If there is only one gospel message, why then do we have four similar but unique accounts of the same story? Over the years, Christians have attempted to answer this by “harmonizing” the four books in order to reconstruct the life of Jesus into a more complete picture. While this approach can be very helpful, we should also learn to view and appreciate each book on its own merit.
In our quest to understand them, we must remember that each book functions on its own as a piece of literature. These four authors were as much theologians as they were historians. They did not merely “cut and paste” other sources together nor did they mechanically transcribe golden tablets that fell from the sky. God’s message is heard through four unique voices that reflect their own individual personality, writing style, experience, purpose and unique audience.
Therefore, we must approach each one as (1) historically reliable, (2) theologically charged, and (3) God-breathed (inspired). Each author put in a great deal of effort to write their account (Lk. 1:1-4). Those efforts, however, were superintended by God’s Spirit so that the final product was exactly what God wanted to communicate to his people (2 Pet. 1:21). God’s involvement and oversight of the writing process is what makes these texts “sacred” and “God-breathed” (1 Cor. 2:6-16; 2 Tim. 3:16-17). Scripture, then, is the result of the collaborative efforts of God’s Spirit and human authors.
One helpful way to appreciate each book is given below:
How deep: Matthew — Matthew was a Jew writing to Jews to show the depth of the gospel. He quotes extensively from the Old Testament to demonstrate how Jesus fulfills Jewish prophecy.
How wide: Luke — Luke was a Gentile writing to Gentiles to show the width of the gospel. He emphasizes the universal scope of God’s plan in welcoming Gentiles and outcasts into the kingdom.
How high: John — John shows the cosmic height of the gospel. His unique introduction, followed by a series of miraculous signs and accompanying discourses, emphasizes Jesus as the divine Son of God.
How low: Mark — Mark shows the lowliness of the gospel. He challenges Greek misconceptions about the Messiah by emphasizing Jesus’ authority in the first half of the book and then his suffering in the last half leading to his crucifixion.