We are grateful for the enduring contribution of Don Carson to our understanding of biblical theology. I (Peter) was influenced by his view of the unity of Scripture and its focus on Christ in my formative teenage years through his books and especially through his Revelation talks at a Katoomba convention. I remain thankful for our conversation in Malaysia about the NSBT Ruth volume, his acceptance of the proposal, and suggestions for its improvement. And it has been a privilege to work with him as Old Testament book review editor at Themelios. For my part (Greg), the incisive thinking of Don Carson and his extraordinary commitment to promoting biblical theology as witnessed by the NSBT series have served as a benchmark in my mind for how scholarship can serve the church. We honor his legacy and theological clarity.

1. Introduction: A Canonical Tension

In our NSBT volume on Ruth, we explored the book of Ruth as a theological narrative of divine kindness, providence, and emerging kingship. While the theme of kingship received sustained attention—particularly in relation to the Davidic genealogy at the book’s conclusion—temple theology was only lightly touched upon.¹Peter H. W. Lau and Gregory Goswell, Unceasing Kindness: A Biblical Theology of Ruth NSBT 41 (London: Apollos, 2016), 14–15. Yet, within the broader Old Testament canon, kingship and temple are deeply intertwined, both functioning as institutional expressions of God’s relational presence and sovereign rule.²God is omnipresent, but at times he takes up residence to relate to his people; see J. Scott Duvall and J. Daniel Hays, God’s Relational Presence: The Cohesive Center of Biblical Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2019).

This essay seeks to develop that underexplored dimension by placing Ruth in canonical dialogue with two post-exilic works: Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah. These books offer contrasting configurations of kingship and temple: Ruth presents a king without a temple; Chronicles idealizes their union; Ezra-Nehemiah depicts a temple without a king. Read together, they reveal a theological tension—Israel sometimes has a king without a temple, or a temple without a king—yet God’s sovereign presence remains active throughout. This tension, we argue, anticipates resolution in Christ, the Davidic king who is also the true temple, in whom divine and relational presence converge once and for all.

2. Ruth: Providential Kingship without Temple

Set in the time of the judges (Ruth 1:1), the Ruth narrative describes a period before Israel had a king and before the temple was constructed. Yet the book affirms divine kingship through the quiet orchestration of providence and kindness (חֶסֶד), culminating in a genealogy that leads to David (4:18–22). As we noted in Unceasing Kindness, Ruth and Boaz embody a form of piety marked by initiative, risk-taking, and other-centeredness, qualities that prefigure David’s own leadership and devotion. Their actions reflect a lived theology in which God’s rule is experienced not through cultic structures but through faithful response to God’s guidance. This is not merely a temporary accommodation but a theological ideal: God’s kingship is manifest in relational fidelity and covenant obedience.

The kindness (חֶסֶד) shown by Ruth and Boaz reflects the חֶסֶד of God himself, especially as their actions align with the law’s requirements, which reflect God’s character. In this way, the law functions not only as ethical instruction but as a vehicle of divine presence. The characters’ obedience becomes almost like a narrative embodiment of temple theology, where God’s relational presence is mediated not through architecture but covenant faithfulness.

This theological vision is reinforced by the literary structure of the book. The narrative is bookended by explicit mentions of divine activity (1:6; 4:13), underscoring God’s providential hand.³Peter H. W. Lau, The Book of Ruth, NICOT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2023), 3. While God’s direct intervention is mostly hidden, the turning point occurs in 2:20, when Naomi recognizes YHWH’s kindness in providing a potential kinsman-redeemer. This recognition sets the stage for Naomi’s initiative in 3:1–5.⁴Lau, The Book of Ruth, 5. The characters’ speech about God and their prayers to him throughout the narrative ensure that audiences do not forget his sovereign role in proceedings. The structure itself thus mirrors the theological claim: God’s kingship is active even when unseen, and providence unfolds through faithful human response.

The canonical placement of Ruth—following Judges and preceding Samuel—invites a theological reading that sees the book as a bridge between Israel’s chaotic tribal period and the emergence of Davidic kingship.⁵The placement of Ruth varies across canonical traditions. In Hebrew Bible manuscripts, Ruth is found in the Writings (Ketuvim). See the discussion in Lau and Goswell, Unceasing Kindness, chs. 4 and 5. In a recent work, I (Peter) further explored Ruth’s function as a literary and theological hinge, reinforcing its role in Primary History (Genesis–2 Kings) by tracing lexical and thematic links between Ruth and the opening chapters of 1 Samuel.⁶Peter H. W. Lau, “The Book of Ruth and the Beginning of 1 Samuel: Reinforcing a Crucial Link in Primary History,” in Explorations in the Interpretation of Samuel, ed. Rachelle Gilmour and Benjamin J. M. Johnson, SBR 26 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2025), 27–44. These include shared motifs of infertility, divine reversal, and covenant faithfulness, as well as repeated phrases such as “better to you than X sons” (Ruth 4:15; 1 Sam 1:8), which bind the narratives together at their seams.

Importantly, the Ruth narrative models divine rule in the absence of temple and monarchy. This absence is not coincidental. It suggests that God’s people can live rightly before him without the institutional presence of the temple, provided they can walk in covenant faithfulness.⁷The characters in the Ruth narrative frequently offer prayers and invoke God’s name, without a formal sacrificial system. These prayers function as expressions of covenantal devotion, revealing that God remained accessible. At the same time, we must not downplay the theological significance of the temple and its sacrificial system in the Old Testament. The temple was the God-instituted locus for atonement, worship, and covenant renewal. Later canonical texts, such as Chronicles, reaffirm its centrality for maintaining a right relationship with God. Yet this theological silence regarding the temple must be understood within the broader canonical context. While the physical structure is absent, the relational presence it symbolizes—God the King dwelling among his people—is not. The Ruth narrative is saturated with divine initiative, guidance, and blessing. What the temple would later represent in architectural and liturgical form is already present in narrative and relational form.

This symbolic dimension becomes more explicit in the Chronicler’s account, where temple and kingship are fused as expressions of divine sovereignty. Ruth’s theological restraint thus sets the stage for the fuller development of temple theology in the canonical books that follow.

3. Chronicles: Temple and Kingship as Divine Expression

The theological union of temple and kingship in Chronicles begins with the Davidic covenant (1 Chr 17:1–15). Here, God’s wordplay on בַּיִת, “house,” forges a foundational connection between David’s dynasty and the temple. David wants to build a house for YHWH, but God responds by promising to build a house for David, a permanent dynasty (17:12, 14). This promise establishes the framework for the Chronicler’s vision: the Davidic king and the temple are inseparably linked as expressions of God’s sovereignty. The temple is not just a religious structure; it is the embodiment of God’s rule and relational presence among his people.

This vision is further developed in David’s final speeches and Solomon’s commissioning (1 Chr 28–29). Solomon is “chosen” by God to “sit on the throne of the kingdom of YHWH over Israel” (28:5). In this verse, not only is human kingship by God’s choice and hence delegated under God’s rule, Solomon does not inherit just a national throne but the throne of YHWH himself. This idea is reiterated in 1 Chronicles 29:23, where Solomon “sat on the throne of YHWH in place of David his father.” God’s ultimate sovereignty is more striking when we compare it to the parallel account in Kings, which states, “So Solomon sat on the throne of David his father, and his kingdom was firmly established” (1 Kgs 2:12). The phrase “the throne of YHWH” in the Chronicler’s account underscores that God is the true king, and the Davidic monarch is his viceregent. This idea had already been introduced in the covenantal promise: “I will set him over my house and my kingdom” (1 Chr 17:14). The Davidic king, then, is not the sovereign but the steward, ruling under God’s authority, expressing God’s reign, and mediating his presence to the people.

The temple itself becomes a visible symbol of God’s kingship. In 1 Chronicles 29:1, David refers to the temple as the בִּירָה—a fortified palace prepared for YHWH. The Chronicler’s use of בִּירָה, a loanword from Akkadian, bı̄rtu, meaning “fortified town” or “citadel,” is theologically significant.⁸HALOT 1:123; NIDOTTE 1:643. The term appears elsewhere in Chronicles for royal fortresses built by Jehoshaphat and Jotham (2 Chr 17:12; 27:4), reinforcing its connotation of strength and sovereignty. Nehemiah also uses בִּירָה to describe the temple (Neh 2:8). It portrays the temple not simply as a place of worship but as the fortified palace of the divine king, a stronghold of covenant stability and sovereign presence. David’s repeated use of the term (29:1, 19) emphasizes the temple’s royal stature. The use of בִּירָה aligns with Solomon’s enthronement “on the throne of YHWH” (29:23), suggesting that the temple is the architectural counterpart to divine kingship. The temple is not just the place for cultic activities; it is the palace of the sovereign God who rules over Israel and all creation.

This theological vision is reinforced by the Chronicler’s focus on liturgical details. David organizes the Levitical musicians (1 Chr 15:16–24; 25:1–8) and he institutes regular thanksgiving and praise before the ark of the covenant (16:4–36). The temple is not only a political center but a liturgical one, where the king leads the people in covenantal devotion. The ark of the covenant, placed in the temple, is described as God’s “footstool” (28:2), and the cherubim above it are called “the plan for the golden chariot of the cherubim” (28:18), evoking the image of God enthroned and mobile, sovereign and present.⁹The ark as “footstool” reflects the ancient Near Eastern concept of the footstool as part of the throne apparatus. See NIDOTTE 1:989. The cherubim imagery evokes the mobile throne of God seen in Ezekiel’s vision (Ezek 1:4–28; 10:3–22) and Psalm 18:10, where God “rode on a cherubim and flew.” In this way, the temple functions both as the worship center and the representation of God’s kingship. The people’s participation in worship affirms that they serve the divine sovereign enthroned in his palace.

In the postexilic period, when there was no Davidic king on the throne, the Chronicler’s emphasis on the temple offered theological reassurance. Even without a human king, the temple stood as a tangible symbol of God’s enduring kingship. It affirmed that God still reigned and that his relational presence had not departed. The temple thus served both a liturgical and eschatological function: it was the place where worship continued and the sign that the divine king remained enthroned. The Chronicler’s vision of temple and kingship not only interpreted Israel’s past but sustained hope for the future.

4. Ezra-Nehemiah: Temple Rebuilt, Kingship Absent

In Ezra-Nehemiah, the people of God return to Jerusalem with the mandate to rebuild the destroyed house of God (Ezra 1:2–4), and that goal is achieved by the end of Ezra 6. The leading role played by Zerubbabel in this project is plain (3:8; 4:2; 5:2), and on that basis, it is intriguing that the narrative is silent about Zerubbabel’s Davidic lineage. It is a matter of debate how much significance the reader is meant to see in his patronym (“the son of Shealtiel”), and the same applies to the use of the same patronym in the prophecy of Haggai (Hag 1:1, 12, 14; 2:2, 23).¹⁰Cf. Gregory Goswell, “The Fate and Future of Zerubbabel in the Prophecy of Haggai,” Bib 91 (2010): 77–90. Shealtiel was the son of Jeconiah (= Jehoiachin), the deposed and exiled Judahite king (cf. 1 Chr 3:17–19). This patronym is also used in Ezra 3:2, 8; 5:2 and Nehemiah 12:1, but it cannot be assumed without argument that this is designed to alert the reader to his Davidic linkage, for Zerubbabel is never in so many words identified as a Davidide in the narrative. The narrator of Ezra-Nehemiah does not stress the royal lineage of Zerubbabel; in fact, it would be more accurate to say that the Davidic pedigree of Zerubbabel is ignored and concealed from the reader.

In Chronicles, the reigns of David and Solomon are seen as a unity centered on the construction of the temple.¹¹Roddy L. Braun, “Solomonic Apologetic in Chronicles,” JBL 92 (1973): 503–16. In Ezra-Nehemiah, the figure of David is recalled a number of times in his role as organizer of cultic worship (Ezra 3:10; 8:20; Neh 11:23; 12:24, 36, 45, 46), and his son Solomon once joins him in the same role (Neh 12:45). However, none of these references connect the Davidic house with the erection of the temple. The name behind the non-specific description of the original builder of the temple (“a great king of Israel”) in Ezra 5:11 is, obviously enough, Solomon, but the point is that he is not mentioned by name in this verse, and so the Solomon connection is effectively downplayed. It is probably the case that the Jewish representatives only mention that the temple was originally a royal building project in an effort to attract the support of the Persian monarch for its rebuilding.

Near the end of the book, the story of Solomon is cited as a sobering example of a great man led astray by foreign wives (Neh 13:26). Solomon was “beloved by his God,” with this expression recalling the name Jedidiah (= “Loved by the Lord”) given to Solomon at his birth (2 Sam 12:24–25). The point made is that “foreign women made even him to sin,” namely, despite his wisdom and the special divine favors bestowed upon him (cf. 1 Kgs 11:1–8). Here, the figure of Solomon is used as an object lesson of immoral behavior for the people generally, not as a messianic cipher. The only person in Ezra-Nehemiah identified as a Davidide is Hattush, who plays no special role (Ezra 8:2). When all this is taken into account, it is plain that the silence in Ezra-Nehemiah concerning the Davidic origins of Zerubbabel must be intentional.

In line with this orientation, there are multiple instances of architectural use of the name David (Neh 12:37 [x2]; cf. 3:16) and references to his liturgical role (12:45, 46) and to his role as prophet (= “the man of God”; 12:24, 36). Nehemiah 12 mentions David by name six times, but nothing implies an expectation of a future Davidide who will put everything right. Certain prominent architectural features of the city memorialize David as a great figure of the past who had close connections with Jerusalem, part of which is called “the city of David” (3:15), but they do not imply that there is an important future for his descendants. An underlying “kingdom of God” theology is the reason for the book’s failure to provide a hope centered on the house of David.¹²For a detailed argument along these lines, see Gregory Goswell, “The Absence of a Davidic Hope in Ezra-Nehemiah,” TrinJ 33 (2012): 19–31. Despite present disappointments and failures by the people (esp. Neh 13), the implied hope is that a change for the better will come through the intervention of God the King. On that basis, Ezra-Nehemiah can be read as looking forward to the coming of Jesus and to the dawning of God’s kingdom through the work of him who is God in human flesh.

5. Theological Reflection: Canonical Tension and Resolution

The practice of biblical theology does not require all books to say exactly the same thing, but it does assume the compatibility of the theology of the different Bible books, with individual canonical books complementing each other in different ways. Set in the early period of Israel’s occupation of the land, the book of Ruth demonstrates that the fact and exercise of God’s Kingship do not depend on what will later become institutions in Israel, namely Davidic kingship and the temple. God’s rule of his people will later find expression in both the house of David and the house of God, but despite their honor and importance, they are not indispensable, for they are only vehicles for something higher and more fundamental. At the other end of the Old Testament period, in the face of the loss of Davidic rule and the destruction of the temple, the book of Daniel reasserts the truth of God’s supreme kingship, which can do without either prop if needed. Mediating positions are provided by Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah. The Chronicler forges what appears to be an inseparable link between temple and Davidic kingship; however, at the end of the book, kings disappear, but it is announced that the temple will be rebuilt (2 Chr 36:22–23). Ezra-Nehemiah highlights the rebuilt temple, but no Davidic king is connected to its rebuilding. Both these books come from the post-exilic period in which the temple functions as the definitive symbol of God’s Kingship over Israel and the world.

In Jesus Christ, the King who is God himself dwells among his people in human form. God’s sovereign relational presence, the ultimate reality to which both temple and kingship pointed, is perfectly embodied in him. Jesus does not merely fulfill these typologies; he is the reality they symbolized. As the incarnate Son, he is both the divine King and the dwelling place of God among his people.

As the Son of David, Jesus sits on the throne of YHWH himself (Matt 1:1; Luke 1:32–33). He is not a viceregent but God the King in human form, exercising divine sovereignty (Matt 28:18; Eph 1:20–22). His perfect obedience to the Law and his self-giving actions express God’s rule and reflect the חֶסֶד of God that Ruth and Boaz prefigured, now made flesh (John 1:14, 17). In his words and deeds, the kingdom of God breaks into history (Mark 1:15; Luke 17:21).

Jesus is also the true temple, the place where God’s glory dwells fully among humanity (John 1:14; 2:19–21). He is the ultimate meeting place between God and humanity, the reality foreshadowed by the Chronicler’s vision of the temple as the place where God’s presence was enthroned, and by Ezra-Nehemiah’s rebuilt sanctuary. Through his atoning death, fellowship with God is restored (Heb 10:19–22). In Christ, believers indwelt by the Spirit become God’s temple (1 Cor 3:16–17; Eph 2:21–22), embodying his presence and awaiting the day when they will reign with him (Rev 5:10; 22:5).

6. Conclusion

This study has traced a canonical pattern that resists simplification. Ruth, Chronicles, and Ezra-Nehemiah each present distinct configurations of temple and kingship, yet none achieves completeness. Ruth depicts divine kingship without temple or monarchy, and Ezra-Nehemiah presents a temple without a king. Chronicles insists that they are inseparable, yet this configuration is incomplete in his time. This incompleteness is not a deficiency to be explained away but a canonical feature that points us to Christ. When we pay careful attention to what each book affirms and what it lacks, the tensions become theologically productive. Together, these books reveal that Israel never possessed the full reality that these institutions symbolized. They point beyond themselves to something, or someone, greater.

Recognizing these incomplete configurations illuminates the fullness of what Christ accomplishes. In him, God’s sovereign presence converges fully and permanently: Jesus is not merely a Davidic king or a temple where God dwells but God the King himself dwelling among his people. What Israel experienced only in fragmented forms finds its complete expression in the incarnate Son.

This approach has methodological implications for biblical theology. Canonical diversity is not an obstacle to a christological reading but its necessary foundation. Only by reading each text on its own terms, attending to both its affirmations and its silences, can we grasp the full scope of what Christ accomplishes. Biblical theology requires patient attention to the particularity of each witness before moving to synthesis, for it is in the gaps and tensions of the Old Testament that the shape of God’s sovereign purposes becomes clear.

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