Author Archives: John Samson

A Thousand Years

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We should and must take the Bible literally. But taking the Bible literally does not mean we interpret everything in a wooden or flat way. To take Scripture literally means to take it according to its literature. The Bible contains poetry, prophecy, apocalyptic visions, parables, and historical narrative, and each must be read in light of its genre. Genre plays a huge role in guiding us toward the right interpretation. A failure to do this wreaks havoc in hermeneutics, leading to distortions of meaning and confusion about what God has actually said. For example, when the Psalms tell us that God covers us with His feathers, we do not picture God as a bird. We understand it as poetic imagery meant to communicate His protection. In the same way, when Revelation speaks of dragons, chains, and “a thousand years,” the point is not to read with wooden literalism, but to recognize the symbolic language of apocalyptic literature and let it speak in the way it was meant to.

I once held to dispensational premillennialism, and even taught it at eschatology conferences as far back as the late 1980s. In those circles very little time was given to trace the word “thousand” through the Scriptures. Yet that tracing is essential. The essence of Bible study is not to let our assumptions govern the text, but to let Scripture interpret Scripture. This is what theologians call the analogy of Scripture, the principle that the Bible, being God’s Word, never contradicts itself, and the clearer passages shed light on the more difficult ones. Closely related is the analogy of faith, which reminds us that all of Scripture must be understood in light of the whole system of truth it presents, with Christ at the center. When we apply these principles, we begin to see that the use of “thousand” in Revelation 20 is not isolated or unique, but consistent with the way the Bible elsewhere uses numbers symbolically to convey completeness, vastness, or fullness.

When Dr. Brian Borgman was preaching for us at King’s Church he gave an insightful analogy summarized as follows:

Where we live, the Gardnerville Fairgrounds sits dusty and worn, the air often heavy with the smells of horses, hot dogs, and popcorn. One week they set up a traveling carnival. My grandson, Calvin, spotted the Ferris wheel and begged to go. I promised we would. For several days we drove past the bright lights, and each time I told him to be patient. Finally I said, today is the day. We got in the car and drove, but instead of turning into the fairgrounds, I kept going. Calvin protested, that is what you promised. Be patient, I said. We passed the town limits, then the county line, and his disappointment grew. Hours later we reached Anaheim. I asked him to close his eyes, pulled up to the entrance of Disneyland, and said, open them. He looked up at the castle and the park spread out before him. No one who receives Disneyland would complain that he was promised only the local carnival. When God fulfills His promises in Christ by giving more than we imagined, He has not failed to keep His word. He has fulfilled it in a greater way, a supra fulfillment that points us to the new heavens and the new earth.

This is exactly how Scripture uses the language of a “thousand.” Psalm 50:10 says God owns “the cattle on a thousand hills,” but of course that means all the hills are His. The psalmist is not suggesting a limit, as if hill number 1,001 somehow lies outside of God’s possession. Rather, he is painting a picture of vastness. Every beast in every forest, every herd grazing on every mountain belongs to Him. The word “thousand” here is not arithmetic to be counted, but majesty to be marveled at. It is the language of abundance, meant to remind us that God is not the Lord of part of creation, but the Lord of all creation.

Deuteronomy 7:9 and Psalm 105:8 promise that God’s covenant love extends to a thousand generations. That is not a limit but a picture of unending faithfulness. Deuteronomy 7:9 says, “Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love Him and keep His commandments, to a thousand generations.” If taken literally, it would imply an expiration date on His mercy, which would contradict the very point Moses is making. The phrase stresses permanence and boundlessness. A thousand generations is far longer than the human mind can practically reckon, and the point is that God’s steadfast love endures without end. His covenant loyalty is not fragile or dependent on changing human performance. It is anchored in His own eternal character.

Psalm 84:10 tells us that one day in God’s courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. The point is not arithmetic, but the surpassing joy of being with Him. Psalm 90:4 and 2 Peter 3:8 take the language even higher: “a thousand years are like a day” to the Lord, and “a day is like a thousand years.” This is not a conversion chart between God’s time and ours, as if one of His days equals one thousand of our years. If we insist on strict math, we miss the very truth the text is meant to communicate. God is not bound by time at all. He does not experience delay the way we do. He is not aging or waiting, He is not carried along by the stream of history, and He does not measure His purposes by the ticking of our clocks. To the eternal God, what feels to us like long centuries may be as a moment, and what feels to us like a brief breath is eternally present in His sight. His promises are not late and His reign is not slow. His timing is always perfect, because He stands over time itself as the sovereign Lord of history.

And in Revelation 20, the “thousand years” of Christ’s reign fits the same biblical pattern. The number stands for fullness and completeness, not a literal countdown. In fact, everything around the phrase “a thousand years” in Revelation 20 is rich with imagery. Satan is described as a dragon, bound with a great chain, and cast into a bottomless pit. Thrones appear, and the martyrs are seen reigning with Christ. The nations are gathered under the symbolic names Gog and Magog, coming from the four corners of the earth. Fire comes down from heaven to consume the enemies of God. All of these elements show that the language is meant to convey spiritual truths through symbolic pictures. So when John says “a thousand years,” it belongs in the same symbolic category, describing the completeness of Christ’s reign rather than a literal block of time.

The interpretation of the “thousand years” in Revelation 20 as symbolic rather than literal is the general consensus among Reformed theologians. This flows out of covenant theology, the recognition of apocalyptic genre, and the consistent symbolic use of numbers throughout Revelation. From Augustine’s City of God onward, the mainstream Reformed tradition has understood the millennium as describing the present reign of Christ, not a future thousand-year earthly kingdom.

This matches the wider pattern of numbers in Revelation. In Revelation 5:11 John hears the voice of angels “ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands.” That is not meant to be tallied up as 100 million plus a few more. It is a way of saying beyond counting, echoing Daniel 7:10. The number 7, repeated throughout the book, represents perfection and completeness: seven churches, seven seals, seven trumpets, seven bowls. The number 12 speaks of the fullness of God’s people: twelve tribes of Israel, twelve apostles of the Lamb, twelve gates, and twelve foundations in the New Jerusalem. The 144,000 in Revelation 7 and 14 is not a census figure but 12 x 12 x 1,000, a symbolic way of showing the entire redeemed people of God.

So when Revelation speaks of a thousand years, it is consistent with the way numbers function throughout the book. They are symbols pointing us to spiritual realities, not statistics to be added up. The thousand years stands for the fullness of Christ’s reign, the complete accomplishment of God’s purposes in history, and the assurance that all His promises will be perfectly fulfilled.

Put simply, when Scripture speaks of a thousand, it points us to abundance, fullness, and forever. Just as the grandson discovered in Brian Borgman’s illustration that Disneyland was far more than he expected when all he could imagine was a small carnival, so God’s people will discover that His promises in Christ are greater, richer, and more complete than we ever dared to hope.

And this is the encouragement for us: God’s promises are never smaller than they appear, they are always greater. His faithfulness is never cut short, it always endures. What may look to us like delay or distance is, in fact, the outworking of His perfect timing. In Christ we can rest assured that the fulfillment will not disappoint. It will be more than we asked, greater than we imagined, and better than we dared to hope.

Membership and the Lord’s Supper

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As we read Acts 2, we see a clear sequence in the life of the early church. Luke writes: “So then, those who had received his word were baptized; and that day there were added about three thousand souls. They were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:41–42). All who repented and believed the gospel were baptized, and in doing so they were recognized as citizens of God’s kingdom and immediately became active members of the local church. Out of that new identity, they joined together in the Word, prayer, fellowship, and the breaking of bread.

This biblical pattern helps us see why membership is inseparably connected to participation in the Lord’s Supper. Paul writes, “We who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (1 Corinthians 10:17). That visible unity assumes a defined and counted people. In 2 Corinthians 2:6 Paul refers to discipline being carried out “by the majority.” That phrase only makes sense if the church knew who belonged to them, since a majority can only be known when the whole is counted. Hebrews 13:17 adds that elders must keep watch over the souls of those entrusted to them and will give an account to Christ. This shepherding cannot happen where there is no belonging. And part of that shepherding includes elders being able to affirm, by welcoming someone to the Table, that they are indeed a true believer walking in repentance and faith.

This is why church discipline and the Lord’s Supper go hand in hand. In 1 Corinthians 5 Paul commands the church to remove the unrepentant from their fellowship, using Passover imagery: “Christ, our Passover Lamb, has been sacrificed. Let us therefore celebrate the festival” (vv. 7–8). To be excluded from the church was to be excluded from the covenant meal. Discipline includes withholding the Supper from those who persist in unrepentant sin. But without membership, that discipline is impossible. To partake while refusing membership is to seek the benefits of belonging without the accountability Christ requires.

Our Baptist forefathers recognized this. The First London Confession (1644) restricted communion to baptized believers walking in obedience. The Second London Confession (1689) stated that the Supper is “to be observed in His churches until the end of the age” (30.1), and that “all who are admitted to the privileges of a church are also under its censures and government according to the rule of Christ” (26.12). The privilege of the Table cannot be separated from the accountability of discipline, nor from the responsibility of elders to guard the Supper and affirm the faith of those who come.

For these reasons, we ask that those who partake of the Lord’s Supper be members of a faithful, gospel-preaching church. This is not about excluding anyone harshly. It is about following the pattern Christ has given for our good. Repentance, faith, baptism, and membership prepare the way for communion at His Table. Through membership, believers share the ordinary means of grace, enjoy fellowship, hear the preaching of the Word, and partake of the ordinances in a protected environment under the care of Christ’s under-shepherds. In this way, the Supper becomes what Christ intended it to be: a covenant meal of the redeemed, shared in unity, truth, and love.

Why Sunday Is Such A Big Deal

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In response to a recent teaching, someone gave me the following feedback in an email:
“… the concept of Sunday being the beginning of the week rather than the end has really put things in a new perspective for me. The idea of starting my week with fellow believers, worshipping, and preparing my heart and mind for the upcoming week has brought an added enthusiasm to attending the church service. When I look at Sunday as the final day of a long, exhausting week, I can find myself longing for a day of rest that includes staying home and doing nothing. But shifting my thoughts to think of Sunday as the Lord does, as a day of rest that focuses on Him, where we meet with other believers to be encouraged, convicted, and prepared for the work ahead is invigorating!”

Praise the Lord!

Let me lay out the Sunday – ‘First day of the week’ scriptures:

Matthew 28:1 – “Now after the Sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week…” (Resurrection morning)
Mark 16:2 – “Very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.”
Mark 16:9 – “Now when He rose early on the first day of the week, He appeared first to Mary Magdalene…”
Luke 24:1 – “But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb…”
John 20:1 – “Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early…”
John 20:19 – “On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked… Jesus came and stood among them.”
Acts 20:7 – “On the first day of the week, when we were gathered together to break bread, Paul talked with them…”
1 Corinthians 16:2 – “On the first day of every week, each of you is to put something aside and store it up…”

We start our Sunday service with the declaration, “It is the Lord’s Day.” This is a very big deal and I would like to explain why.

From the very beginning, Christians gathered on the first day of the week (Sunday), because it was the day of Christ’s resurrection. All four Gospels note that Jesus rose on “the first day of the week” (Matt. 28:1; Mark 16:2; Luke 24:1; John 20:1). This was the decisive event of redemptive history, the dawn of the new creation, and it gave a new rhythm to the life of God’s people. To say that Sunday is the first day of the week is not only to mark time differently, but to embrace the truth that in Christ a new creation has begun, a new world has dawned, and our lives are caught up in His resurrection life.

The book of Acts records this pattern. In Acts 20:7 we read: “On the first day of the week, when we were gathered together to break bread, Paul talked with them…” This was not a casual choice of day, but a deliberate practice of the church.

Likewise, Paul instructed the Corinthians: “On the first day of every week, each of you is to put something aside and store it up…” (1 Cor. 16:2), tying even the collection of offerings to the Lord’s Day. And when John received his vision on Patmos, he said it happened “on the Lord’s Day” (Rev. 1:10), showing that when the book of Revelation was written, Sunday had already taken on this sacred identity.

The early church fathers confirm this. Around AD 110, Ignatius of Antioch wrote of Christians who “no longer observe the Sabbath, but direct their lives toward the Lord’s Day, on which our life has sprung up again by Him and by His death” (Letter to the Magnesians 9, written on his way to martyrdom in Rome).

A few decades later, Justin Martyr described Sunday gatherings in detail. Justin Martyr (c. AD 100–165) was one of the earliest Christian apologists, writing in defense of the faith during a time of persecution under the Roman Empire. His writings, especially the First Apology, give us one of the clearest windows into how Christians worshiped in the mid-second century. He wrote: “On the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place… because it is the first day on which God, having wrought a change in the darkness and matter, made the world, and Jesus Christ our Savior on the same day rose from the dead” (First Apology 67).

For the early Christians, then, Sunday was not a convenient substitute for the Jewish Sabbath, but the Lord’s Day, the day of resurrection, the day that pointed forward to the fullness of God’s kingdom. They began their week gathered with Christ’s people, nourished by His Word and Supper, and renewed in hope until He comes again.

Seeing the Lord’s Day as the first day of the week is meant to change how we see life – a true paradigm shift. Too often people treat Sunday as an interruption, as if it gets in the way of our “down time” at the weekend. In reality, it is the beginning of the week, the day God Himself calls us together in worship, with holy intentions to refresh and strengthen His people. He also brings us His counsel, correcting us when needed as His dearly loved children. He comforts us with His gospel and gives us rest in Christ before we step into all that the week ahead will bring. What a joy it is to begin the week this way, with God as our first priority, resting in His grace and delighting in His Word. Yet this is often not understood, and so it must be plainly taught.

Among other things, becoming a member of a church is saying, “I will be here, with you, on the Lord’s Day.” This is often not understood, yet it is very much the case biblically. Membership includes a commitment to gather unless the Lord Himself prevents us, what our forefathers called being providentially hindered. This may include physical incapacity, sickness, a true emergency, or what the old writers called an unavoidable duty of mercy. In such moments, love for neighbor may require you to step away. Jesus said, “It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath” (Matt. 12:12). So if your child wakes up suddenly ill, if you must sit with a dying loved one, if you are called to give urgent medical help, or if providence places you in a situation where attending the service would withhold needed mercy, that is included in what we mean. These are not excuses of convenience, but genuine, God-given responsibilities. “Providential hindering” takes all of these realities into account. To be a member is not only to take on responsibility, but to embrace joy. It is to say, “These are my people, this is my family, and I will gladly be with them on the Lord’s Day.”

This commitment rests on God’s Word: “not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near” (Heb. 10:25). Coming to church is not just about what we get, it is also about what we give. In fact, it is mainly this. Our gathering is not just for us, it is an offering of worship to God and an act of love to His people. When you sing, you minister to those around you. When you pray, you join your voice with theirs. When you simply show up, you encourage someone else to keep running the race. Gathering is obedience to God and a rich act of love to His people.

Now, let’s be clear. Sometimes God really does prevent us, and in those cases we understand and extend grace. But when the Lord gives us health and opportunity, willful absence is not neutral, it grieves Him because it is disobedience to His Word. I say this with love and gentleness, as one entrusted to care for your soul (Heb. 13:17). If this feels sharp to our ears, it may be worth asking why. Could it be that we have not yet yielded every part of our lives to Christ, even our time? We sometimes think of Sunday as “our day,” when in reality it is the Lord’s Day. Scripture reminds us, “for you are not your own, you were bought with a price” (1 Corinthians 6:19–20). Jesus is Lord, and the Lord’s Day is not a burden but a gift, for when He owns us, nothing else and no one else does. His ownership means our freedom and His day is given for His glory and our good.

Week by week consistency in coming to the gathered assembly on the Lord’s Day is deeply pleasing to God, and it is also a blessing to the elders and to the whole body at King’s Church. Membership includes the joyful privilege and responsibility of coming together consistently, week after week, to glorify Christ, to serve His people, and to be nourished by His Word.

Understanding the significance of the Lord’s Day is indeed a paradigm shift and deeply invigorating. God willing, I will see you in the Lord’s house on the Lord’s Day.