Category Archives: Eschatology

The Future Resurrection of the Body

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Jason L. Bradfield writes (on facebook):

Gary DeMar and Kim Burgess dropped the first of their podcasts on 1 Corinthians 15 today. If either of them turned this in at Whitefield Theological Seminary, it’d get an F. It’s that bad. I immediately got to typing and here is my quick reaction:

– The Same Old Word-Game on Mellō

Gary (and Kim) is still stuck insisting that mellō always means “about to,” even though he’s never proven it and has flat-out ignored my challenge to him on Acts 26:22.

They do the same thing with the word parousia. Now, a person may agree that every use of parousia refers to the same event, but it’s one thing to demonstrate that exegetically, and quite another to assume it because you’ve bought into this strange notion that words in Scripture can only ever mean one thing.

That’s not scholarship; that’s laziness.

– Twisting the Creeds: The False Claim About the Nicene “Correction”

It gets worse. They actually claim that the Nicene Creed corrected the Apostles’ Creed by changing “resurrection of the body” to the supposedly more “biblical” phrase, “resurrection of the dead.” As if the body isn’t even in view in 1 Corinthians 15! From verse 35 through verse 44, Paul uses the Greek word sōma (“body”) ten times. Yet Kim goes so far as to say that “resurrection of the flesh” is a “contradiction in terms.”

How? Of course, Kim never explains how. The only way he could possibly arrive at that conclusion is if he treats flesh (sarx) the same way they treat mellō; as if it only has one meaning everywhere it appears. But “flesh” in Scripture clearly has a range of meanings.

– Christ’s Resurrection Was of the Flesh

And what then are we to do with Christ’s resurrection, which these men claim to affirm? Christ’s resurrection was bodily. It was of the flesh. His fleshly body died and rose again.

“As they were talking about these things, Jesus himself stood among them, and said to them, ‘Peace to you!’ But they were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit. And he said to them, ‘Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.'” (Luke 24:36–39)

“For a spirit (pneuma) does not have flesh (sarx) and bones (osteon) as you see I have.”

Obviously, then, “resurrection of the flesh” is not a “contradiction in terms.”

– The Historical Record: No Evidence of a Bodiless Creed

There’s absolutely no evidence that the Nicene Creed was “correcting” the Apostles’ Creed to avoid the idea of flesh being involved in the resurrection. And if that were their intent, it would actually be a denial of the Apostles’ Creed itself; a point that completely flies over DeMar’s head. You can’t redefine a doctrine and then claim to affirm it.

The hyper-preterist claim that the 381 Creed was a “corrective” to deny bodily resurrection has no support in the sources whatsoever.

On every front—creed manuscripts, council records, and patristic theology—the early Church consistently taught that bodies will rise again. The phrase “resurrection of the dead” in the Nicene Creed was always understood in full continuity with “resurrection of the body” or “resurrection of the flesh,” not as a covert denial of a physical resurrection.

The Fathers used dead and body/flesh interchangeably in reference to the same hope. The idea that Nicaea (or Constantinople) quietly erased bodily resurrection is historical revisionism of the worst kind.

– The “Burros of Berea” Problem

And all of this follows a rather dishonest admission from Gary at the start of the episode. He claims he was dragged into this controversy because of comments he made years ago on the Burros of Berea podcast.

According to him, he was merely describing that some people believe you receive your resurrection body at death, and he supposedly just said he “had no problem” with that view. He insists he wasn’t rejecting the traditional view; just acknowledging another perspective.

But the dishonesty lies in the fact that Gary was specifically asked what he personally believes:

“When your body takes its last breath, what is your belief?”

He answered, and I quote:

“I believe that when you die, you go to be with the Lord, and you get a new body at that time.”

Here’s the recording: https://www.reformation.blog/…/gary-demar-denies-the…

So no, Gary wasn’t simply pointing out what others believe. He explicitly said that he believes that very thing. He denied the resurrection of the body in that podcast—plain and simple—and now he’s trying to rewrite history as if he didn’t.

– “It Doesn’t Affect Worldview”? Think Again

What makes this even more absurd is his claim in this latest episode that he didn’t have a problem with that belief because, in his words,

“…to me, it’s not a factor in terms of worldview thinking. What happens when we die doesn’t come into play in terms of how we’re living out the Christian faith in the world in which we live today.”

Oh, really? Ever read 1 and 2 Peter, Gary? Or Romans 8? Or Philippians 3?

I would argue, and have argued in our sermon series, that the hope of bodily resurrection is precisely the foundation for how we live as Christians in the world today. It’s not some detached doctrinal curiosity; it’s the heartbeat of Christian ethics and endurance.

Peter grounds the entire moral and pastoral force of his letters in the certainty of the coming judgment and the future resurrection. The call to holiness, perseverance, and hope flows directly out of that eschatological reality.

“He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.” (1 Peter 1:3–5)

In 1 Peter 1:13-16, the imperative “set your hope fully” is explicitly future-oriented. Holiness in the present is the ethical outworking of fixing one’s hope on the eschatological revelation of Christ. Peter’s “therefore” shows that eschatology drives ethics.

“Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

In 1 Peter 1:17-21, Peter ties obedience in this life to the coming judgment. The believer’s conduct is shaped by the knowledge that the Father will judge impartially; a future eschatological reckoning.

“If you call on him as Father who judges impartially according to each one’s deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile…”

In 1 Peter 2:11-12, the “day of visitation” is a future day of divine judgment or vindication. Present moral purity and good works serve evangelistic and eschatological purposes.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation.”

In 1 Peter 4:7-10, Peter explicitly links ethical behavior—sobriety, prayer, and love—to eschatological imminence. The nearness of “the end” demands alert, holy living. And no, we’re not ignoring the so-called “time texts,” such as verse 7. Kim and Gary keep slanderously accusing us of that, but it’s simply false.

“The end of all things is at hand; therefore be self-controlled and sober-minded for the sake of your prayers. Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace:”

In 1 Peter 4:12-13, present suffering is interpreted through the lens of future glory. The eschatological revelation of Christ’s glory gives meaning and endurance to persecution.

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.”

In 1 Peter 5:1-4, pastoral faithfulness and humility are sustained by the expectation of Christ’s future appearing and reward. Again, eschatology shapes vocation and character.

“When the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory.”

In 2 Peter 1:10-11, ethical diligence leads to eschatological assurance. Present godliness confirms the believer’s readiness for entry into Christ’s eternal kingdom.

“Be all the more diligent to confirm your calling and election, for if you practice these qualities you will never fall. For in this way there will be richly provided for you an entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”

Furthermore, Peter makes it unmistakably clear that false doctrine and moral corruption go hand in hand. The heretics he describes in 2 Peter 2–3 are not merely confused interpreters; they are willful deceivers whose denial of the Lord’s return is directly linked to their immoral lifestyle.

In 2 Peter 2, their character and conduct are on full display: they are “bold and willful” (2:10), “slaves of corruption” (2:19), and “blots and blemishes” (2:13). Their theology accommodates their lusts. They deny “the Master who bought them” (2:1) and twist the promise of His coming into an excuse for sin. Their doctrinal deviation is moral at its root. They scoff at judgment because they love their own depravity.

Peter ties the progression together in 2 Peter 3:3–4:

“Scoffers will come in the last days with scoffing, following their own sinful desires. They will say, “Where is the promise of his coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all things are continuing as they were from the beginning of creation.””

They dismiss the Second Coming because it threatens their autonomy. The denial of eschatological judgment becomes the license for unrestrained living.

Peter answers their cynicism by reminding believers of two things: the certainty of divine judgment (3:7) and the patience of God in salvation (3:9). The same God who once judged the world by water will again judge by fire. Far from being delayed, the Lord’s timing is merciful, giving room for repentance before the final reckoning.

In other words, to scoff at the Second Coming is to scoff at holiness itself. When false teachers erase the future return of Christ, they remove the moral horizon that keeps the church sober, humble, and watchful.

And Peter could not be any clearer than 2 Peter 3:10-14:

“But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed. Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set on fire and dissolved, and the heavenly bodies will melt as they burn! But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Therefore, beloved, since you are waiting for these, be diligent to be found by him without spot or blemish, and at peace.”

Having exposed the false teachers’ denial of judgment, Peter brings his letter to a climactic close by grounding true Christian living in the certainty of that judgment and the promise of renewal. The destruction of the old and the creation of the new are not speculative curiosities — they are moral imperatives.

Eschatology is not an appendix to doctrine; it is the heartbeat of Christian ethics. The same certainty that “all these things will be dissolved” also guarantees that there will be “new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.” Those twin truths — dissolution and renewal — demand lives marked by holiness, godliness, diligence, and peace.

Future righteousness defines present conduct. The believer’s anticipation of the coming age shapes his moral integrity in this one. We live as citizens of the world to come, waiting for what God has promised, and our purity now is the visible evidence that our hope is genuine.

That is why Peter closes his letter with this sober exhortation:

“You therefore, beloved, knowing this beforehand, take care that you are not carried away with the error of lawless people and lose your own stability. But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” (2 Peter 3:17–18)

Sound doctrine and sound living rise and fall together. A distorted eschatology always leads to ethical collapse, just as we see today among those who, like Gary and Kim, scoff at the promise of Christ’s appearing while claiming to defend biblical consistency.

To argue, as Gary does, that the resurrection and the new heavens and new earth have no bearing on our present lives is not merely misguided, it is spiritually disastrous. Peter would have called such reasoning blindness. The entire moral framework of Christian faithfulness rests on the certainty of future resurrection and renewal.

“If the dead are not raised, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” Do not be deceived: “Bad company ruins good morals.” Wake up from your drunken stupor, as is right, and do not go on sinning. For some have no knowledge of God. I say this to your shame.” (1 Corinthians 15:32-34)

The apostles never treat the promise of the new creation as a minor point for debate. For them, it is the engine that drives Christian perseverance and purpose. The coming reality of resurrection gives meaning to obedience, courage to suffering, and direction to hope. Because this world will be dissolved and remade, believers live now as heirs of that world, walking in holiness and hope.

To detach Christian ethics from eschatology is to strip Christianity of its horizon. Without the expectation of bodily resurrection, holiness becomes optional, suffering loses its context, and hope collapses into sentimentality.

Peter’s eschatology does not pull believers away from faithful living; it propels them into it. It sanctifies our present engagement in the world by fixing our eyes on the one to come. The creation itself will be freed from corruption; righteousness will dwell upon a renewed earth; and our resurrected bodies will share in that glory. The future is not irrelevant to the present. It defines it.

To deny that connection, as Gary does, is to preach a Christianity without resurrection power and a faith without forward motion.

And this is precisely what Peter warns against. The false teachers of his day scoffed at the coming judgment and therefore abandoned holiness. Their denial of Christ’s return was not an innocent exegetical error; it was a moral rebellion disguised as theology. Once the expectation of resurrection and renewal is stripped away, the call to righteousness loses its urgency, and corruption rushes in to fill the vacuum.

That same pattern repeats itself today. Those who mock the future hope of Christ’s appearing — while boasting of their “consistency” — reveal that their theology serves their desires, not the text. And Peter would have recognized them instantly.

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.