Was Jesus a Real Historical Person?

Most historians today, including those who are no friends of the Christian faith, agree on two fundamental points: Jesus of Nazareth was a real historical figure, and the early Christian movement grew rapidly in the decades after his death. That does not mean that every question has been answered. It does not prove His miracles or that He really did rise from the dead. But it does dispel a common idea that Jesus perhaps never existed at all. That’s not at all where the evidence leads.

So what kind of evidence do we actually have, and how should we think about it?

What do we mean by “historical”?

When we say “historical,” we mean that the person existed in a real time and place. Sources close to the events mention him, sources that can be critically examined and cross-checked, and the movement he began can be tracked in the wider world.

By that standard, even though He came from an obscure corner of the Roman Empire, Jesus is a well-attested figure from antiquity. We are therefore dealing with a real person in a real setting, with real sources that can be examined and weighed.

The Gospels are not modern biographies, but they are biographies

In a YouTube video interview, Cambridge scholar Dr. Peter J. Williams makes a simple but vital point: the Gospels are not “fever-dream fiction.” They fit the writings of the ancient world. At one level, they are “Gospels.” At another level, they resemble ancient biographies, written to convey who a person was and why they mattered, not to satisfy modern expectations and all that entails.

A key feature is content. A large portion of each Gospel focuses on the events regarding Jesus’ final week leading to His death, and the claim of His resurrection. That is not accidental on the writers’ part. The Gospels recount history with theological implications. They are saying loud and clear, “These events happened, and there are ramifications for everyone in our world.”

That combination often bothers modern readers. But it should not surprise us. Ancient historians regularly wrote with a viewpoint. The question is not, “Do the authors have convictions?” They clearly do. The question is, “Are they close enough to the events described so that they know what really happened, and can their claims be tested?”

Dr. Williams also makes a helpful observation: the Gospels do not include printed dates on the title page, but they do include names. If Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John really are the authors, that creates a basic historical constraint and timeline. People can only live so long. A tax collector who left his booth to follow Jesus cannot be writing centuries later. We are driven back into the Middle Eastern world of the first century, within the living memory of the events.

This matters for dating. Even if scholars debate the precise decade, authorship by first-century figures limits how late the Gospels can be.

One more point strengthens credibility, especially for skeptical readers. The Gospels include details that early Christians would not naturally invent to make their message “sell” better: the Messiah’s shameful execution by crucifixion, the record of the disciples’ repeated failures, and the initial fear and confusion surrounding the resurrection story. Historians sometimes discuss this under the heading of the “criterion of embarrassment.” The idea here is not that embarrassing details automatically prove everything, but that awkward, costly, or reputation-damaging details are less likely to be deliberate propaganda. This definitely carries weight as evidence of authenticity when the historical setting is understood.

Non-Christian sources confirm key basics

We do not have to begin with Christian sources to establish that Jesus existed and was executed. Two well-known non-Christian witnesses accommodate us here.

Tacitus, a Roman historian writing about Nero’s response to rumors after the great fire of Rome, mentions Christians and explains the origin of their name. He links the movement to “Christus,” and places His execution in the reign of Tiberius under Pontius Pilate. Whatever someone concludes about the resurrection, Tacitus is not trying to help Christianity. He is a hostile witness. Yet he still treats the basic claim as public knowledge: there was a man called Christus, executed under Pontius Pilate, and His followers increased in number.

Pliny the Younger, a Roman governor in Bithynia-Pontus, writes to Emperor Trajan about how to handle the Christians of his day. He reports that they met before dawn and sang “a hymn to Christ, as to a god,” and bound themselves by oath not to engage in crime. Again, this is not from a friendly source. Pliny is describing what he sees as a troubling movement. Yet he confirms key facts for us: Christians existed early, they worshiped Christ, and their convictions shaped their behavior.

A third witness is Josephus, the first-century Jewish historian. Josephus provides another important witness, though his testimony requires careful handling. His brief reference to “James, the brother of Jesus who was called Christ” is widely regarded as authentic in substance, even among many who dispute the more debated passage often called the Testimonium Flavianum.

These witnesses wrote within roughly 20 to 85 years of Jesus’ death, which is remarkably early by ancient historical standards. Tacitus and Pliny are commonly dated to the early second century (c. AD 110–120), and Josephus to the late first century (c. AD 93–94 for Antiquities).

So even outside the New Testament, the trail of evidence quickly leads us to Jesus and to a movement that was convinced He mattered supremely.

“The telephone game” objection: why this is not a good analogy

A common skeptical line goes like this: “The Jesus story was passed around for decades. That is basically the telephone game. Details get distorted.” That analogy sounds persuasive until you slow down and compare the situations.

The telephone game is designed to corrupt the message. The whole point is that one person whispers once, the next repeats once, and so on. The process is intentionally thin and uncontrolled. But Jesus’ public teaching did not happen in private whispers. He taught repeatedly, in public settings, to groups, with disciples tasked to learn. In the interview, Williams notes that disciples were students, and Jesus could have used structured repetition and memorization methods. That is historically plausible in a Jewish context where memorization was common, and where teachers repeated core material.

The early community also had “multiple lines” of access. The telephone game depends on a single chain. Early Christianity did not. You have many witnesses, many communities, and early written sources circulating among them. Even when accounts differ in details, the differences can actually function like cross-checks rather than proof of invention.

This is also where the “Jesus myth theory” should be named explicitly. Online, it is common to hear that Jesus never existed and that Christianity began as a purely mythical story. Whatever one thinks about miracles, that claim is widely rejected in mainstream scholarship, including by many skeptical scholars who do not accept Christian faith claims. Even Bart Ehrman, a skeptical New Testament scholar, explicitly argues that the proposal that Jesus was a legend/myth does not hold up to scrutiny. Jesus’ historical existence is not seriously disputed among historians who specialize in the period.

Here is where manuscript evidence matters. The New Testament is preserved in an enormous manuscript tradition. Building on the general point Williams makes about “loads of copies,” many commonly cited estimates describe over 5,800 catalogued Greek New Testament manuscripts, and when early translations in other languages (Latin, Syriac, Coptic, and others) are included, the total number of witnesses exceeds 20,000.

The telephone game makes recovery impossible. Textual criticism does the opposite. It thrives on abundant copies. When you have many manuscripts across regions and centuries, you can identify patterns, compare readings, and detect where copying differs. Paradoxically, the abundance that produces variants is also what makes the original text more recoverable.

A simple illustration helps. For many ancient works, the manuscript base is comparatively thin, and sometimes concentrated in a small number of copying streams. For the New Testament, the manuscript base is gigantic by comparison and geographically widespread, which makes large-scale, coordinated “editing” across the entire tradition extraordinarily difficult to sustain without leaving clear traces.

“Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence,” yes and no

That slogan gets repeated constantly. It can be helpful, but only if you define your terms.

In the interview, Williams pushes back by noting that “extraordinary” depends on your underlying worldview. If God exists, miracles are not “impossible intrusions.” They are purposeful acts consistent with God’s power and plan.

There is also a second issue: people apply the slogan selectively. Many modern claims about origins are extraordinary too: life emerging from non-life, consciousness arising from purely material processes, the universe springing from nothing. Yet people often grant these a pass because they fit a naturalistic framework. The point is not that Christianity wins by pointing to hard questions in science. The point is that everyone has “background beliefs” that shape what they consider plausible.

A more honest approach is this: worldviews shape what we consider plausible, so we should test the sources carefully rather than dismiss them out of hand.

What can we responsibly conclude?

At minimum, the evidence supports these historically grounded statements: Jesus existed as a first-century Jewish teacher. He was executed under Roman authority in Judea. His followers rapidly spread across the empire. They worshiped Christ early, even when it carried social and legal risk.

Christian faith goes further, of course. It says the best explanation for the rise of Christianity is not merely that Jesus lived and died, but that He rose and reigns.

But even before you get to that claim, you have solid historical footing: Jesus is not a mythical figure invented centuries later. He is a real figure who left real footprints in the ancient world.

Can We Trust the New Testament Text We Have Today?

“The world’s oldest game of telephone.” A comedian got plenty of laughs as he mocked the Bible using this line. The audience reacted this way because the concept seems very plausible: a whisper passed down a long chain, becoming more garbled at each stage until, by the end of the line, little if anything of the original message filters through.

But that is not how the New Testament came to us.

And this matters, because we are not talking about mere trivia. Christians stake their lives on the historical Jesus of Nazareth, and the primary sources for His life and teaching are the writings of the apostles. So the question is a fair one: Does the New Testament portray what the apostles and their associates actually wrote?

The answer to the question is “Yes.” And that’s because the evidence is far better than most people realize.

The “telephone game” is the wrong model

The telephone game is fun exactly because it was designed to distort the message. It is one slim chain, one whisper at a time, and you cannot check the whisper you heard against anything else, not even the whisper before the one you heard. By the end of the line, you have no way to test anything that occurred along the way. Distortion is basically guaranteed.

The New Testament is the exact opposite to this.

From the start, the apostolic writings circulated across wide regions; different places, at different times, by different hands, for different communities. This means we do not have a single line of transmission. We have multiple lines and multiple copies.

This is hugely important. Multiple lines change everything about the transmission process.

When you have only one copy, corruption can go undetected. When you have many copies, you can see where mistakes have been made. If a scribe in one region accidentally drops a line or tries to “smooth” a phrase, the other copies expose the error. That is why the New Testament textual tradition is not best pictured as a puzzle rather than a whisper. In a puzzle, if one piece is damaged or missing, the surrounding pieces reveal what was original to the whole. When you have only one copy, corruption can go undetected. When you have many copies, you can see where mistakes have been made. That is how multiple manuscripts work for us.

The first thing to say plainly: we do not have the originals

No serious scholar thinks we still possess the autograph copies penned by Paul, John, or Luke. Ancient writing materials were fragile. Documents eventually wore out. They were used, copied, and eventually perished. But notice that sequence. They were used and copied many times over before they faded from view.

That’s why not having access to the originals is not the same thing as not knowing what the original text said.

In fact, the New Testament is among the best attested textual traditions from the ancient world. We have an “embarrassment of riches” in terms of manuscript evidence, and the quantity is not the only point. The diversity and spread matter too.

Daniel Wallace, who has spent decades working directly with Greek manuscripts and their cataloging, notes that the official Gregory-Aland count has reached 5,999, while also acknowledging that the practical, usable number is often summarized as “about 5,800” because of cataloging overlap, reassignment, and related complications.[1]

And those Greek manuscripts are not the whole picture. The New Testament was translated early into other languages (Latin, Syriac, Coptic, and more), and the church fathers quoted it constantly, which means we can cross-check readings across multiple kinds of witnesses, not only Greek copies.

Even better, we have early manuscripts that bring us much closer to the first century than many skeptics assume. For example, a famous fragment of John (often called P52, from John 18) is widely dated to the early second century by many specialists, though responsible scholars emphasize that paleographic dating is normally a range rather than a single pinpoint year.[2] Dating ancient handwriting is like dating a building by its architectural style. Experts can narrow it to a general period, but precise years are educated estimates, not certainties.

And we have larger early manuscripts as well, such as P66 (a substantial copy of John). Many discussions place it around the late second or early third century, though other specialists propose later ranges, again reminding us that paleography gives probabilities, not time stamps.

Do not miss what that means. The gap between the originals and our surviving copies is not a dark canyon where “anything could have happened.” It is a window where real, physical, geographically distributed evidence can be weighed.

“There are hundreds of thousands of variants.” True, and often misleading

This is where people get rattled.

They hear: “There are more variants than words in the New Testament,” and it sounds like chaos. But that statistic can be used like rhetoric rather than analysis.

Why? Because with many manuscripts, you see many differences. The more witnesses you have, the more you see. If you only had four manuscripts, you would list fewer variants. If you have thousands, you can document far more. In other words, the large number of variants is, in significant measure, the result of having so much data to compare.

Michael Kruger makes a simple point here that lands with ordinary people: if you see a spelling mistake in an article, you do not throw the article away. You automatically “repair” it as you read because the intended word is obvious in context. That is what most scribal variation is like: spelling slips, minor word order changes, small omissions, and the kinds of errors any hand-copying process produces.[4]

So what matters is not merely the number of variants, but the nature of variants.

Most variants do not change the meaning of the text in any significant way. And among those that do affect meaning, only a small portion are serious candidates for the original reading, because textual critics evaluate readings by manuscript age, geographic spread, internal coherence, scribal habits, and a host of other factors.

This is why textual criticism is not a threat to the Bible. It is one of the means by which God has, in His providence, made the text publicly checkable. But some remain unconvinced. They ask a sharper question.

“But what if scribes changed the text to create Christian doctrine?”

That claim shows up everywhere: Constantine invented Jesus’ deity, the church edited the text to win theological battles, the “Orthodox party” rewrote Scripture.

If that were true, Christianity collapses.

But it fails on multiple levels.

First, the church did not have the ability to centrally control the text in the early centuries, because copies were already spread across the Mediterranean world, in multiple regions and languages. You cannot “edit everything everywhere” when the evidence is already distributed.

Second, the doctrines skeptics like to target are not built on one fragile verse. They are woven through the New Testament across many passages, in multiple authors, in multiple genres.

Take Christ’s deity: John 1:1, Colossians 1:15–20, Hebrews 1:3, and many more are not late inventions. They are embedded in the earliest Christian writings. And the Constantine story collapses historically too. The Council of Nicaea (325) was not convened to “invent” Jesus’ deity. It was convened to address controversy about it. In other words, the debate presupposed that Christians were already worshiping Christ as God and confessing His deity in ways that demanded clarification.

Here is a striking example of how slogans spread: Kurt Eichenwald popularized “telephone” style skepticism in a widely circulated Newsweek essay, framing our Bibles as “translations of translations” of endlessly recopied documents.[3] But that framing is precisely the problem: it trades in slogans instead of dealing carefully with the way manuscripts and editions actually work.

And here is another striking example: Bart Ehrman is often quoted to unsettle Christians, but he also acknowledges (in more careful moments) that scholars can reconstruct the original text with reasonable accuracy, and that the earliest recoverable form of a text can be very closely related to what the author wrote. Kruger quotes Ehrman to that effect in his discussion of optimism in textual criticism.[4]

That does not mean every variant is trivial. Some are genuinely interesting, and a few are debated. But the heart of the Christian message does not rise or fall on one disputed line.

So when someone says, “We cannot even know what the New Testament originally said,” that is not a conclusion forced by the evidence. It is a conclusion imposed on the evidence.

So what do we say, carefully, without overclaiming?

We should avoid two equal and opposite errors.

One error is radical skepticism: “We cannot know the text at all.” That does not fit the data.

The other error is absolute certainty: “There are no textual questions anywhere.” That is also not true, and it creates unnecessary crises when Christians finally notice the footnotes in their Bibles.

A better way is older, steadier, and more honest: we have the New Testament text with substantial integrity, and in the small number of places where there are real questions, the options are limited and publicly discussable, and no essential doctrine is at stake.

Kruger’s written discussion highlights a helpful kind of optimism. Even while acknowledging complexity and the impossibility of 100 percent certainty at every point, he cites a range of scholars who argue that, given the vast store of manuscript evidence, the original reading is present somewhere in the tradition and can be recovered with reasonable confidence in the overwhelming majority of cases.[4]

That is the key: reasonable confidence grounded in abundant evidence, not blind certainty and not cynical despair.

The pastoral bottom line for believers, and the honest challenge to skeptics

If you are a believer, do not be frightened by the existence of footnotes. Those notes are not confessions of failure. They are marks of transparency.

Your modern English Bible is not a translation of a translation of a translation. Modern translations are made from the best available Hebrew and Greek texts, informed by the manuscript evidence and the long history of careful scholarship.

Some believers prefer the Textus Receptus (underlying the KJV) or the Majority Text tradition, while others use the Nestle-Aland critical text (underlying ESV, NASB, NIV, CSB). These debates are real, but they are debates within 99 percent agreement. Even the most discussed differences (like the ending of Mark, Mark 16:9–20, or the woman caught in adultery, John 7:53–8:11) do not introduce new doctrines. They are family discussions, not fatal contradictions.

If you are a skeptic, do not settle for slogans. The “telephone game” is not an argument, it is a cartoon. The real question is whether the New Testament is textually accessible in a way comparable to, or better than, other ancient sources we trust for history.

And here the New Testament stands remarkably strong.

But I do not want to end with manuscripts. The point of this conversation is not to win debates. It is to clear away falsehoods and misconceptions.

We do not pursue textual confidence as an end in itself. We pursue it so we can hear what the apostles actually testified: that Jesus Christ lived, died, rose, and now calls every human being to answer His question, “Who do you say that I am?”

That is where all of this lands.

God’s providence and the sufficiency of Scripture

Finally, consider this from a theological angle. The Second London Baptist Confession (1689) speaks plainly about God’s “singular care and providence” in keeping the Scriptures “pure in all ages” (1.8).[5] That is not a claim that every copyist made no mistakes, but that God has preserved His Word in such a way that Christ’s church is not left at the mercy of guesswork.

Think of it like this: imagine a great treasure scattered across many fields by a wise king who wants it found. He does not hide it in one chest that could be lost forever. He spreads it widely so that even if some pieces are damaged, the whole picture can still be recovered by diligent searchers. That is how God has preserved His Word: through a multitude of copies, spread far and wide, so the truth shines through.

B. B. Warfield, a Reformed giant who thought carefully about manuscripts, made the same basic point in a different key: God’s preservation is not mainly a miracle of one perfect chain, but a providential preservation through a multiplicity of witnesses. Warfield even spoke of the “autographic text” being “distinctly within the reach of criticism” for the vast majority of the New Testament.[6]

And that word “witness” matters. In the New Testament, the Greek term martus often carries legal, testimonial weight, as in Acts 1:8 where believers are called to be Christ’s “witnesses.” In a humbler, derivative sense, the manuscripts function as public witnesses to the text, precisely because they are numerous, geographically spread, and cross-checkable. Just as the apostles were legally qualified eyewitnesses (Luke 1:2, Acts 1:21–22), the manuscripts serve as material witnesses, each one testifying to what was written, and together forming a chorus that drowns out individual errors.

2 Timothy 3:16–17 presses the sufficiency and usefulness of Scripture for doctrine and life. Textual criticism, when practiced responsibly, does not undermine that sufficiency. It serves it, by refining our access to the inspired words.

Practically, this means we approach our Bibles not with doubt, but with reverence, trusting that what we hold is God’s Word, preserved for our salvation and sanctification. As Spurgeon urged, let us read it, believe it, and live it out in daily obedience.

Footnotes

[1] Daniel B. Wallace, Center for the Study of New Testament Manuscripts (CSNTM), overview material on the Greek New Testament manuscript count (commonly summarized around 5,800, with catalog totals sometimes higher due to overlap and reassignment).
[2] John Rylands Library (University of Manchester), catalog information for Papyrus Rylands Greek 457 (P52), commonly discussed as an early second-century witness to John 18, with dating presented as a range.
[3] Kurt Eichenwald, “The Bible: So Misunderstood It’s a Sin,” Newsweek (widely circulated essay discussing manuscript transmission and translations), published online December 23, 2014 (print January 2015).
[4] Michael J. Kruger, “Do We Have the Original Text? Some Optimism in Textual Criticism,” essay quoting multiple textual critics on recoverability of the original text and including citations of Bart Ehrman’s acknowledgments regarding reconstruction.
[5] The Second London Baptist Confession of Faith (1689), Chapter 1, Paragraph 8, on God’s singular care and providence in preserving Scripture “pure in all ages.”
[6] B. B. Warfield, An Introduction to the Textual Criticism of the New Testament (1886), classic statement on the accessibility of the autographic text and the role of abundant manuscript evidence.

Can We Trust the Old Testament Text We Have Today?

Two questions we should not confuse

When people ask, “Can we trust the Old Testament?,” they often mix two different questions:

A) Preservation: Has God kept His Word from being lost or corrupted beyond recognition over time?

B) Recovery: When scribes made mistakes in copying, do we have enough evidence to identify and correct most of them?

Here is a simple illustration. If a friend texts you, “I will meat you at 6,” you do not panic and throw your phone away. You instantly repair the spelling in your mind and understand the message. That is recovery. And if the text thread has been saved and shared across multiple devices, you also know the message has not vanished into thin air. That is preservation.

The Old Testament question is not, “Were there ever copyist mistakes?” Of course, there were. The question is whether God has preserved His Word in such a way that His people can still hear His voice clearly, and whether the manuscript evidence gives us real confidence about the text we read.

The loud claim people repeat

You will hear it said: “Ancient scribes changed the biblical text thousands of times. We cannot even know what the Old Testament originally said.”

Like most effective objections, it is partly true and then pushed into misleading rhetoric.

Yes, there are textual differences among witnesses (Hebrew manuscripts, the Greek Septuagint in various forms, Samaritan Pentateuch, and the evidence from Qumran). Some books show more complexity than others. Jeremiah is the classic example.

But the leap from “there are variants” to “we have no idea what the Old Testament said” is not sober scholarship. It is salesmanship. The number of variants does not determine whether we can know the original. What matters is the nature of the variants and the quantity of witnesses we can compare.

A sober truth, with immediate reassurance

We should not pretend we can reach absolute, mathematical certainty about every single letter in every single verse in every single place. That is true for the Old Testament, and frankly it is true for all ancient texts.

But here is the key reassurance: the overwhelming majority of textual differences are small, involving spelling, word order, minor copying slips, or easily explainable factors like harmonization and scribal habits. Scholars consistently note remarkable agreement across the witnesses. These differences do not turn the Old Testament into a fog.

And here is the “spoiler” that matters for ordinary Christians: the Dead Sea Scrolls provide astonishing confirmation that the Hebrew text is stable and carefully transmitted, not a late medieval invention or a theological power play.

Before 1947, the oldest complete Hebrew manuscripts of the Old Testament dated to around AD 1000 (the Masoretic Text tradition). That meant a gap of over 1,000 years between the close of the Old Testament canon and our earliest full manuscripts. Skeptics naturally asked, “How do we know the text wasn’t corrupted during that millennium?”

Then came Qumran. Among the Dead Sea Scrolls discovered between 1947 and 1956, scholars found copies of biblical books dating to 200-100 BC, pushing our manuscript evidence back over 1,000 years earlier. And the result? The Great Isaiah Scroll (1QIsaᵃ), for example, matches the later Masoretic Text with remarkable consistency. Yes, there are minor differences (mostly spelling variations and copyist slips), but the text is stable. The scribes were careful. The transmission was faithful.

This is a major reason believers can read the Old Testament today with deep confidence. The DSS didn’t create new problems. They solved an old skeptical objection and confirmed what the church had long confessed: God has preserved His Word.

Start where Jesus starts: Christ’s confidence in the Old Testament

If we want a Christian doctrine of Scripture, we do not begin with internet panic. We begin with Jesus.

Jesus speaks of the Old Testament as the very Word of God and treats its details with reverence:

Matthew 5:18: “Not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law…” (Greek iota and keraia, corresponding to Hebrew yod and tag, the smallest letter and its decorative crown).

Luke 16:17: It is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for one “dot” of the Law to become void.

John 10:35: “Scripture cannot be broken” (a simple, strong summary of Christ’s view of Scripture’s unbreakable authority).

Jesus is not naive about human sin or human failure. Yet He speaks with settled confidence about the enduring authority of the Scriptures. That does not answer every technical question, but it sets the tone: Christians are not chasing a lost Word. We are receiving a given Word.

Yes, the Old Testament has hard cases, and they do not overthrow confidence

Jeremiah and the shorter Greek form

Jeremiah is sometimes raised as a textual concern because the ancient Greek translation (the Septuagint) presents a form of Jeremiah that is notably shorter and arranged differently than the traditional Hebrew text we have in our Bibles today. Skeptics treat this as evidence of textual chaos. But that is not what the evidence shows.

Here is what conservative scholars generally recognize: the Hebrew manuscript tradition behind our modern Bibles represents a carefully preserved form of Jeremiah that was standardized and transmitted with great care. The Greek form may reflect an earlier stage of the prophet’s work, or a distinct textual tradition that circulated before standardization. In other words, the difference is real, but it does not mean corruption, confusion, or lost meaning. It means we are dealing with ancient manuscripts that have a history—which is exactly what we should expect. Conservative scholars like Bruce Waltke and Peter Williams address this honestly: the textual situation in Jeremiah requires careful handling, but it does not undermine the text’s reliability or theological clarity.

And here is what must be said plainly for the church: both the Hebrew and Greek forms of Jeremiah proclaim the same core prophetic message—God’s judgment on sin, the certainty of exile, the promise of restoration, and the hope of a new covenant. That new covenant promise is explicit in Jeremiah 31:31–34, fulfilled in Christ (Hebrews 8). The theological content is stable and clear.

So Jeremiah is not a reason to fear. It is a reason to think carefully, trust the God who preserves His Word, and worship the Christ to whom all prophecy points.

Other “problem texts” people love to cite

Some texts raise questions that require humility:

  • Puzzling numbers in historical books
  • Occasional copying difficulties in Samuel and Kings
  • A handful of very rare cases where a line may have dropped out (Psalm 145’s acrostic is often discussed)

These should not surprise us. The Old Testament was copied by hand across centuries. The surprise is not that there are any hard cases. The surprise is how stable the text is overall, and how much evidence we have for comparing readings responsibly. (Dr. Peter J. Williams, for example, regularly presses this point in his teaching: handle the real difficulties honestly, but do not exaggerate them into a crisis.)

So how do we think clearly about these real difficulties without either minimizing them or letting them undermine our confidence? Two guardrails help.

Two guardrails that keep us sane

Guardrail 1: Do not treat variants as if they are all equally serious.

Most are not. A list of “differences” can be inflated by counting trivial matters as if they were the collapse of meaning. That is rhetorical heat, not sober light.

Guardrail 2: Do not weaponize the New Testament’s use of the Old Testament as if it were a simple “proof” of what the earliest Hebrew wording must have been.

Here’s what this means practically. When New Testament writers quote the Old Testament, they sometimes cite the Hebrew text, sometimes the Greek Septuagint, and sometimes paraphrase or summarize for their specific point. For example, Hebrews 10:5-7 quotes Psalm 40:6-8, but follows the Septuagint’s rendering (“a body you prepared for me”) rather than the Hebrew (“ears you have opened for me”). Both convey God’s desire for obedience over mere ritual sacrifice, but the Greek wording serves the author’s specific Christological argument about the incarnation. That’s not a textual corruption problem. That’s an inspired writer using the version that best highlights the theological point under the Spirit’s guidance.

The point is this: New Testament writers sometimes cite, summarize, or echo the Old Testament in ways shaped by context, audience, and inspired application. That is hermeneutics, not always a direct claim about the exact textual form behind a verse. In other words, we should not force the New Testament into our modern quotation rules and then build anxiety on top of an anachronism.

These guardrails protect us from two opposite errors: naïve denial (“there are no issues”) and cynical exaggeration (“everything is unknowable”).

The bottom line: you are not holding something scrambled beyond recognition

You are holding the Word of God that has been preserved through real history, real people, real copying, and real providence.

The message is not sitting on a knife edge. God has not left His people guessing whether He has spoken.

And we should end where Scripture ends: with doxology and confidence.

You hold the enduring Word promised in Isaiah 40:8: “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” Peter explicitly applies that promise to the Word preached to the church: “The word of the Lord remains forever” (1 Peter 1:24–25).

So read your Old Testament with confidence. Preach it with reverence. Obey it with joy. And above all, follow it to Christ, because He has spoken clearly, kept His Word faithfully, and given us every reason to trust what we hold in our hands. The living God has not stuttered.