An Overlooked Argument for Christianity

Jesus is a compelling historical figure. This is the case because of his own life and influence, but it also comes into view in the context of the larger biblical story. The Bible does not start with Jesus. He comes toward the end—like a long-awaited hero after much darkness and anguish. Specifically, Jesus arrives in history as the fulfillment of the hopes of a nation in the ancient world (the people of Israel).

We’re familiar with this concept of a “messiah” outside the Bible. We know what it’s like to long for a deliverer. We understand how Morpheus feels toward Neo in The Matrix, or how people can develop such high hopes for an incoming political leader.

What if this is what Jesus is for humanity? What if he’s the One we’ve all been waiting for—the hero in the long and troubled story of human history?

Messianic Expectation

You may be aware that the Bible comes in two basic parts. There is a longer, older, Hebrew section—more narrative and concrete (what we call the Old Testament). Then there is the more compact Greek counterpart—more systematic, full of letters (what we call the New Testament). The New Testament is concentrated in the first century AD, but the books of the Old Testament are scattered across several centuries of ancient history.

This twofold structure entails a chronological unfolding that distinguishes the Bible from many other religious texts (e.g., the Qur’an). This provides a unique benefit: It positions us to observe how the biblical story develops across time.

Christians claim there is coherence to this development. Specifically, the movement from Old Testament to New Testament is something like the movement from promise to fulfillment. And the biggest example (though not the only one) is messianic prophecies in the Old Testament predicting Jesus. This kind of appeal has a long tradition, tracing back throughout church history to the apostles and to Jesus himself (e.g., Luke 4:21).

But today it often sounds suspicious. How detailed are these prophecies? Could apparent similarities to Jesus be a coincidence? How do we know the texts haven’t been altered? And what about the possibility of an intentional fulfillment (by Jesus or his followers—or both)?

Arguments from prophecy have often failed to take these concerns seriously. Hence they tend to be unpopular today. But more careful expressions of argument are possible.

The key to the argument is the cumulative weight of Old Testament prophecies. It’s the sheer number of them, and the way they unfold organically and yet seemingly coherently—almost like a LEGO set being slowly constructed, piece by piece, with the end clearly in mind.

The key to the argument is the cumulative weight of Old Testament prophecies. It’s the sheer number of them, and the way they unfold organically and yet seemingly coherently.

Significantly, messianic expectation does not arise from one person but within a huge and evolving tradition. This is a point Blaise Pascal emphasized: “Here is a whole people who announce it, and who have existed for four thousand years, in order to give corporate testimony of the assurances which they have, and from which they cannot be diverted by whatever threats and persecutions people may make against them.”

Big Picture

The way messianic hope unfolds through the Old Testament is absolutely fascinating. Let’s sketch five principles here to get the big picture.

1. The fundamental plot of the Old Testament is the Creator God choosing one nation (Israel) to bless all the other nations of the world (see Gen. 12:1–3). The strange thing is, this doesn’t really happen within the Old Testament—except to a very limited extent. Instead, Israel languishes, declines, and then barely survives, yet hope endures that this blessing will happen one day in the future. From Genesis 3:15 to Malachi 4:5–6, the Old Testament’s palpable flavor is forward-looking and expectant.

2. This forward-looking quality of the Old Testament gradually homes in on one particular person—initially a royal figure, or king (Gen. 49:10; Num. 24:17–19), and then more specifically a descendant of King David (2 Sam. 7:16; Jer. 23:5–6; Ezek. 37:24–25).

3. Hope also arises for a coming prophet (Deut. 18:15–18) and a coming priest (1 Sam. 2:35), and eventually these hopes (especially the priestly one) seem to merge with the Davidic hope (Ps. 110; Jer. 33:17–18; Dan. 9:24–27; Zech. 6:13). We will speak of this fuller hope as a “messianic” hope (Messiah means “anointed one,” and prophets, priests, and kings were three anointed offices in the Old Testament).

4. As it develops in its own turn, messianic hope becomes interwoven with the entire range of Old Testament expectation. It is through the future Messiah that God will bring about

• the blessing of the nations (Ps. 72:17),
• the reunification and peace of God’s people (Isa. 9:6–7; Mic. 5:4–5),
• atonement for sin and the cessation of sacrifice (Dan. 9:24–27),
• deliverance from foreign powers (Isa. 11:1–10; Jer. 30:8–9),
• multiplication of offspring (Jer. 33:17–22; Ezek. 37:26), and
• the return to the land (Ezek. 37:25; Amos 9:11–15).

Essentially, all Israel’s hopes crystallize in this one figure, like dozens of parallel streams eventually converging to form one river.

5. The biblical story seems to go out of its way to highlight the endurance of the Davidic line, even during major disruptions (like the Babylonian exile in the sixth century BC). This explains the seemingly random genealogical ending to the book of Ruth (the great-grandmother of David); the otherwise anticlimactic conclusion to Kings and Jeremiah, highlighting the survival of Jehoiachin (the Davidic ruler during the exile); and the emphasis in the postexilic literature on the establishment of Zerubbabel (the grandson of Jehoiachin).

In sum, you could say the Old Testament almost reads like a story of expectation—a long tale sustaining a hope that has not yet quite arrived.

Triumphant Messiah

By the first century, a widespread sense of messianic expectation existed among the Jewish people—so much so that Roman historians (at least Suetonius, Tacitus, and Josephus) even appropriated this idea to describe their own emperors. Nonetheless, Jewish groups differed significantly in what they thought the Messiah would do. In some communities (like the Qumran community), there was expectation for two Messiahs—one priestly, one kingly.

We can isolate two strands of messianic prophecies that contributed to these different expectations—the triumphant Messiah versus the lowly Messiah. Expectation for a triumphant Messiah is dominant:

• He rules over the entire world (Ps. 72:8; Isa. 9:7; Zech. 9:10).
• He reigns forever (Pss. 21:4; 72:17; 89:36–37).
• He subdues God’s enemies (Pss. 2:9; 89:22–23; 110:1–2; 132:18).
• He delivers and protects God’s people (Ps. 72:12–14; Isa. 11:4; Jer. 23:5–6; Ezek. 34:23; Mic. 5:4–5).
• He spreads righteousness and peace and saving knowledge of God to all nations (Gen. 49:10; Ps. 72:16–17; Isa. 11:10; 42:1; 49:6; Zech. 9:10).

But that is not the full picture. Other texts envision a suffering figure (Ps. 22), lowly and riding on a donkey (Zech. 9:9), dying on behalf of others (Isa. 53). These passages were often taken as messianic, no less than the triumphant texts—though the rabbis struggled to correlate them.

In the Talmud, we can even find some rabbis contrasting the son of man riding in the clouds (Dan. 7) with the king riding on a donkey (Zech. 9) as two alternative possibilities, contingent on the obedience of the Jewish people. After all, how could the One riding on the clouds be the same person as the One riding on a donkey?

Suffering Messiah

Let’s zoom in on one text for a moment: Isaiah 52:13–53:12. Here we read of a righteous servant of God who suffers vicariously for others. Some claim that this servant is the corporate nation of Israel. But this passage is one of four “servant songs” in the book of Isaiah, all describing the same figure—and elsewhere the servant is said to save Israel (e.g., Isa. 49:6). So while Israel can be spoken of as God’s servant, this cannot exhaust the meaning of this phrase here.

Rather, this passage is best taken as a messianic prophecy, describing a future individual from among God’s people (who can also act on their behalf)—perhaps the same individual described in other prophecies of a suffering Messiah (e.g., Ps. 22). While the more relevant portions are below, take time to read the whole passage and make mental notes of everything this individual does:

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. . . . But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter. . . . He was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people[.] And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth. (Isa. 53:3, 5, 7–9)

At the risk of oversimplification, 10 themes emerge about this servant: (1) He is wise and lifted up (52:13); (2) he is marred beyond recognition (v. 14); (3) he “sprinkles” many nations—priestly language often associated with forgiveness or cleansing (v. 15); (4) he is despised and rejected by people (53:1–3); (5) his suffering is vicarious on behalf of the sins of others (vv. 4–6); (6) he is silent before accusation (v. 7); (7) he is suddenly killed for the transgression of God’s people (v. 8); (8) he receives a wealthy burial (v. 9); (9) after his guilt offering, he receives new life and descendants (v. 10); (10) he makes many righteous by bearing their sin (vv. 11–12).

I probably don’t need to point out how eerily similar this sounds to the portrayal of Jesus Christ in the New Testament. It’s not just the general atonement theology reflected in #3 or #10—it’s even little details like #6 (see Matt. 27:12–14) or #8 (remember Joseph of Arimathea?).

So how do we best understand this? Here is where the story takes an interesting turn.

Unexpected Fulfillment

While the Old Testament had a forward-looking tone, the dominant note of the New Testament is arrival. It’s here. Jesus is the promised Davidic King. This is the basic message of the New Testament, from start (Matt. 1:1) to finish (Rev. 22:16).

What is amazing is that the New Testament makes this claim not just about the suffering prophecies but about the triumphant ones as well. Jesus isn’t merely the realization of Isaiah 53, but Isaiah 9 and 11 too. Not only has Psalm 22 happened, but Psalm 72 and 89 have happened as well.

This was the early Christian message: Jesus’s death fulfilled expectations for messianic suffering and sin-bearing, while his resurrection fulfilled expectations for messianic triumph and kingly rule. The recurrent theme of the speeches in Acts is that the Davidic King is on his throne, currently reigning—because of the resurrection and exaltation of Jesus (Acts 2:30–32; 3:19–24; 13:30–35). Everything Israel hoped for is happening now.

This is not the kind of messianic sham likely to be concocted. A spiritual messianic reign was a difficult message for the first-century Jews languishing under Roman oppression. Even the disciples themselves initially expected a more political Messiah (Acts 1:6), and Jesus’s birth narratives make predictions that sound rather political as well (e.g., Luke 1:71). As Lydia McGrew points out, “If the evangelists were inclined to alter the story to create an argument from Jesus’s fulfillment of prophecy, all of these passages seem unlikely inclusions. It would have been much easier either to leave them out or to alter them.”

Consider the words of the angel Gabriel to Mary: “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (vv. 32–33).

This was the early Christian message: Jesus’s death fulfilled expectations for messianic suffering and sin-bearing, while his resurrection fulfilled expectations for messianic triumph and kingly rule.

If you were trying to fabricate a story that your leader was the Messiah, why include prophecies like this that would seem patently falsified by his crucifixion? Why not just stick with Isaiah 53? Unless, of course, the disciples thought Jesus really rose from the dead, and his kingdom really was established.

Two other reasons make a manufactured fulfillment unlikely. First, it would be a herculean task to organize, since it would depend on so many uncontrollable and diverse factors (the location of Jesus’s birthplace, for example). As Peter Kreeft puts it, “Even if Jesus deliberately tried to fulfill the prophecies, no mere man could have the power to arrange the time, place, events and circumstances of his birth or events after his death.”

Second, what would the motive be? Why stage an artificial messianic arrival that would likely lead only to scorn and crucifixion? This holds true for both the disciples and Jesus himself, who seems to have predicted his own crucifixion and resurrection on numerous occasions (e.g., Matt. 16:21). Why would they keep going, knowing what was at stake?

Textual Interpolations or Coincidence?

If the idea of a contrived messianic fulfillment is implausible, what are the other possibilities? The answer cannot be textual corruptions or interpolations. There are too many prophecies in play. Plus, the evidence strongly supports that they predate Christ and have generally been copied very carefully.

A better explanation is simple coincidence. Some of these prophecies are cryptic and inexact. Perhaps they conjure an impression that corresponds to Jesus through a combination of cherry-picking, motivated reasoning, and blind luck. You’ll have to work through this in careful detail to come to a firm conclusion. Speaking for myself, it seems like a long shot. The range and specificity of these Old Testament prophecies are pretty remarkable.

To provide one other example, consider Daniel 9:24–27. Here the angel Gabriel announces to Daniel the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple as well as the coming of a Messiah (“anointed one”) who will atone for sin, establish righteousness, and “put an end to sacrifice and offering” (v. 27).

Further, a specific time frame is given: “seventy sevens” (see ESV footnote). Scholars debate how to understand this language, but one reasonable option is to take it as 70 times of 7 years, which equals around 490 years. Measuring from the decree from Artaxerxes (referenced in Ezra 7) to restore Jerusalem, which is dated to 458 BC, that lands you around AD 33, right about the time Jesus was crucified and a few decades before the destruction of Jerusalem and the Jewish temple.

It is difficult to be dogmatic about that exact chronology, and different proposals have been offered. Nonetheless, the prophecy is striking even apart from the time frame: Daniel foresees the coming of a Messiah, his being “cut off,” the ending of sacrifice, and the temple’s destruction. In the first century, the Jewish sacrificial system was ended, the temple was destroyed, and a man believed to be the Messiah was indeed “cut off.”

Could it be a coincidence? In isolation, surely. However, it becomes more difficult when you combine Daniel 9 with Isaiah 53 and the entire labyrinth of Old Testament expectation. The idea that the early Christians retrojected Old Testament texts onto Jesus cannot easily account for the sheer breadth and specificity, or for the sometimes awkward or politically risky features, of the prophecies they appealed to. It’s genuinely hard to account for such a lengthy, coherent story of hope.

Most Plausible Explanation

There is so much more to explore on this topic. This is not a conclusive treatment of this argument—just the briefest flyover, meant to encourage further exploration.

The idea that the early Christians retrojected Old Testament texts onto Jesus cannot easily account for the sheer breadth and specificity of the prophecies they appealed to.

But I suspect many who look further into this topic will come to believe, as I have, that the most plausible explanation of the messianic character of the biblical story is indeed a supernatural one. It really does seem like the Jewish people were waiting for a Savior, and Jesus is that Savior.

If this is true, it is exciting. It means hope has arrived in human history. A hero has entered the story—not just for the ancient Jews but for you and me today. “Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end” (Isa. 9:7).

Do you remember the final scene of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story? Right after Darth Vader massacres all those rebel troopers? A tiny ship escapes, carrying the Death Star plans. When Princess Leia is asked what they are, she replies, “Hope.”

Think of the emotions of this scene. You are languishing against terrible oppression and darkness. Things look grim. But now a glimmer of hope is kindled. The rebellion has a chance. You can keep fighting.

If Jesus is the expected Jewish Messiah, this is what we should feel. The long saga of human history is brutal. But something is being done about it. A plan is quietly unfolding. There is hope.