Dr Paul Allen

  Jesus repeats the truth of v. 51c, but now puts it in a conditional form: unless you can eat the flesh of the Son of Man … you have no life in you. Verse 54 puts the same truth positively, Whoever eats my flesh … has eternal life ; and again, Jesus promises to raise such a person up at the last day. In addition to the repetition of a basic theme, several fresh points are added. (1) The one whose flesh is eaten bears the title the Son of Man (cf. notes on 1:51; in this discourse, vv. 27, 62). In one sense, he is simply a man, i.e. someone with flesh and blood; but he is also the one on whom God has set his seal of approval (v. 27), the bread from heaven, the one who descends and then ascends ‘to where he was before’ (v. 62). ‘Son of Man’ is thus a title that speaks of Jesus as the man where God is supremely revealed, and the flesh of this ‘Son of Man’, unlike the flesh of any other, must be eaten if one is to gain eternal life. (2) The words and drink his (my) blood are added ...

DICK HARFIELD'S RESPONSE TO THIS QUESTION Why couldn’t the conversation in John 21:17 have happened in Aramaic, and how does the Greek language change its meaning? Had Jesus asked in Aramaic whether Peter loved him, Peter’s answer that he loved Jesus, also spoken in Aramaic, would have satisfied Jesus each time, because the same verb ( ḥav ) would have been used, regardless of how strong Peter’s love was. Jesus could not have perceived from Peter’s answers that his love was not as strong as he might have desired. Koine Greek allows different nuances, so Jesus asked for sacred love ( agape ) but Peter responded by saying that his love ( philia ) towards Jesus was like the love of a good friend. The gospels were written in Greek for Greek-speaking readers, so the conversation would have seemed natural to people who probably did not even realise that Jesus and Peter could not meaningfully have had this conversation in the local language, Aramaic. When translated into Latin, the Greek ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Christians, we grieve. Oh, do we grieve. Being a Christian does not mean that our sorrows go away or are minimised, or that we pretend that the many sorrows of this life are no big deal. In fact, we Christians actually grieve more. God has taken out our old, dead hearts and put new hearts in us. In Christ, the insensitivities and imbalances of our old selves are being renewed day by day into the likeness of Jesus (Col. 3:10). With the help and healing of the Holy Spirit, we feel more, not less. More than joy alone, we feel, at new depths, the seemingly negative emotions of anger, fear, shame, guilt, and sorrow. With sin still indwelling us, we often err in the timing, focus, and intensity of our feelings. But in Christ, we really can, and really do, grow to feel holy anger, holy fear, holy shame, holy sorrow—a holy grief that is wholly different from worldly despair. All joy, no grief? In 1 Thessalonians 4:13, the Apostle Paul writes with the longing that Christians “not grieve as o...

Who has believed what he has heard from us? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?” the prophet Isaiah asks (Isa. 53:1). The promise of salvation had gone out. God’s mighty arm—His power to redeem—was being revealed. But no one could have imagined that it would come this way. Weakness, obscurity, rejection, sorrow—this is how God chose to unveil His strength. The mighty arm of the Lord would be extended not in conquest but in crucifixion. The Servant of the Lord “grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground” (v. 2), not like a towering oak or conquering king. There was no majesty, no spectacle, no beauty that would draw the eye. Nothing in Him looked like deliverance. He was common—so common that we despised and dismissed Him. “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (v. 3). This should make the beleaguered, sorrowful sufferer pause. This promised Christ didn’t come to observe our pain from afar. He came t...

Jesus prayed, “O My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done.”   Matthew 26:42 “Is there no other way?” It’s the kind of question we ask when life reaches its most difficult points: when a long, slow illness steals the strength and vitality of a loved one; when a deeply troubled marriage stands on the cliff of divorce; when a desperate search for work, food, and shelter results only in hunger and homelessness or crime and begging; when an addiction becomes a fast track to rock bottom and despair; when depression closes in and makes the whole world dark … again.  In these times, the question sneaks into our minds and sometimes escapes our lips: “Is there no other way?” Have you ever asked God that question? When the brokenness of this world and our lives reaches its most intense, most threatening moments, we are tempted to think we are the only ones who have asked that question or felt that sorrow.  But would it surprise you to...