WE DID NOT follow cleverly invented stories when we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty. 17For he received honor and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” 18We ourselves heard this voice that came from heaven when we were with him on the sacred mountain.
19And we have the word of the prophets made more certain, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts. 20Above all, you must understand that no prophecy of Scripture came about by the prophet’s own interpretation. 21For prophecy never had its origin in the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.
Original Meaning
IN 1:12–15, PETER has underscored the importance of what he had to say by characterizing this letter as a sort of last will and testament. Peter wants to leave with his readers a last—and lasting—“reminder” of what he has taught. Fittingly, then, in verses 16–21 he turns to the doctrinal issue that he thinks his readers are most in need of remembering in their present circumstances: the return of Christ in glory and judgment at the end of history. Peter highlights this matter by returning to it again at the end of the body of the letter (3:1–13), thereby creating a frame around the central part of the letter.
Why does Peter focus so narrowly on this one doctrinal point while ignoring or saying little about matters such as Christ’s atoning death, his victorious resurrection, and the work of the Holy Spirit? Clearly, because the false teachers were attacking Christian truth at precisely this point. Peter makes this clear in 3:3–4, where he warns his readers of “scoffers” who say, “Where is this ‘coming’ he promised?” We have no such direct allusion in the present paragraph. But Peter hints that he is also here thinking about the false teachers and their agenda by denying that the apostles’ teaching about Christ’s return come from “cleverly invented stories” (1:16). In the light of 3:3–4, we can assume that the false teachers were dismissing the truth of Christ’s return by attributing the apostles’ teaching to fables or myths.
We do not know precisely why, or on what basis, the false teachers were denying the truth of Christ’s return. In 3:4–13, Peter puts particular stress on the radical change in the created world that will accompany Christ’s return. Probably, then, the false teachers thought that the world would continue on as it now was and denied that there would be any kind of eschatological climax in which good would be rewarded and evil punished. That this was the case seems to be confirmed by Peter’s emphasis on the certainty of judgment (see, e.g., 2:3b). And the false teachers’ eschatological skepticism was undoubtedly tied to their immoral lifestyle: With no prospect of future judgment, one did not have to worry much about living a righteous life.
We can only speculate about the sources of these false teachers’ denial of future eschatology. Certainly many Greek thinkers of Peter’s day scorned any notion of a divine providential control of history and of life after death.1 And these errorists may also have been influenced by a “spiritualized” eschatology of a type that Paul also had to deal with: Christians who thought that the final form of the kingdom had already arrived (cf. 1 Cor. 4:8) and that the resurrection had already taken place (see 2 Tim. 2:18).
Peter attacks this eschatological skepticism by reaffirming “the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ” and by citing two reasons why Christians can be sure that this coming will take place: (1) the eyewitness testimony of himself and other apostles who had seen the transfiguration of Jesus (vv. 16–18), and (2) the reliability of the prophecies of Scripture (vv. 19–21).
Peter’s Eyewitness Testimony to the Parousia (vv. 16–18)
GRAMMATICALLY, THE MAIN assertion in verse 16 is that “we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Significantly, Peter shifts from the first singular person he used in verses 12–15 (“I will remind you … I think it right … I will make every effort”) to the first person plural in verses 16–18 (“we told you … we were eyewitnesses … we ourselves heard this voice … when we were with him”). This “we” must refer to Peter and other apostles, since it was only they who were eyewitnesses of the Transfiguration. Peter’s point is that the fact of Christ’s transfiguration, and thus also the belief that he will come again, rests on the testimony of several apostolic eyewitnesses.
When Peter associates some of these other apostles with himself in telling his readers about Christ’s return, he does not necessarily mean that other apostles had personally told them of this truth—although that is certainly possible. Probably Peter simply means that Christ’s coming again in glory was a part of the basic gospel message preached by the apostles and that the readers of this letter had received that message. Evangelistic appeals from Peter himself delivered early in the life of the church confirm that Christ’s return was a staple of early Christian proclamation. In Acts 3, addressing a crowd of Jews at the temple, Peter calls on his hearers to repent, “that times of refreshing may come from the Lord, and that he may send the Christ, who has been appointed for you—even Jesus. He must remain in heaven until the time comes for God to restore everything, as he promised long ago through his holy prophets” (Acts 3:19–21). Again, speaking before Cornelius and his household, Peter testified that Jesus was “the one whom God had appointed as judge of the living and the dead” (10:42).
“The power and coming” can, of course, refer to two distinct things: Christ’s inherent power and his coming again in glory. But the two words probably form a hendiadys; that is, they together refer to a single entity: Christ’s “coming in power” (cf. TEV: “mighty coming”). Peter could here be referring to Christ’s first “coming”: his incarnation and powerful redeeming ministry.2 But the word “coming” is used throughout the New Testament as almost a technical term for Christ’s return in glory—so much so that the underlying Greek word, parousia, has passed into our theological vocabulary. The word can mean simply “presence” (as it does at least three times in the New Testament: 2 Cor. 10:10; Phil. 2:12; 2 Thess. 2:9), but it usually means “arrival” or “coming.” The Greeks used the word to refer to the special “presence” or even “coming” of a god. Some Jewish writers also used the term in this way; Josephus, for instance, uses it to depict the terrifying appearance of God to Moses on Sinai.3 Especially significant perhaps for the New Testament use of the word is the application of parousia among the Greeks to the official visit of a ruler.4 Hence, as in verse 16 here, the word occurs seventeen times in the New Testament to refer to Christ’s return in glory.
Peter’s reminder about the apostolic proclamation of the return of Christ may be the center of the verse grammatically, but the key point he wants to get across comes in the contrasting qualifications of this assertion: The apostles made known the return of Christ not in following “cleverly invented stories” but in being “eyewitnesses of his majesty.” “Stories” translates the Greek word mythos (from which we get “myth”). This Greek word had a broad range of meaning, but the meaning most relevant to our verse is the sense “fictional account, fable.” Jewish authors used the word with this meaning to depict pagan fictions about the creation of the world and of the behavior of the gods.5
Enhancing this meaning here is Peter’s addition of the modifier sesophismenois, “cleverly invented,” “deceitfully concocted.” The closest biblical parallel to the phrase comes in Paul’s references in the Pastoral Letters to “myths and endless genealogies” (1 Tim. 1:4) and to “myths and old wives’ tales” (1 Tim. 4:7; cf. also 2 Tim. 4:4 and Titus 1:14). Peter may have been led to deny that the apostles followed such clever fables in proclaiming the return of Christ in order to distinguish their teaching from the teaching of the heretics. But it is more likely that his denial came because the false teachers were accusing the apostles of inventing the whole idea of the Parousia and the judgment it would bring. Perhaps they thought the apostles had introduced the idea to lend weight to their moral strictures: “Behave in a godly way or you will be judged.”
But Peter is not content simply to deny that the apostles’ teaching about Christ’s return was built on a myth; he asserts, positively, that the teaching is the direct product of eyewitness testimony. “Eyewitnesses” may be another of those distinctly Hellenistic religious words of which Peter is so fond, for it was used in his day to describe a certain kind of initiate into the mystery religions. But the word is also used quite generally, so we cannot be sure of this particular nuance.6 Peter claims, with others, to have been “eyewitnesses of his [that is, the Lord Jesus Christ’s] majesty.” “Majesty” translates a word (megaleiotes) that has divine associations; and here, as the following two verses show, the reference is specifically to Christ’s glorious appearance at the time of the Transfiguration.
It was on that occasion, as Peter puts it, that Christ “received honor and glory from God the Father.” “Honor” (time) and “glory” (doxa) may simply form an hendiadys to denote the majesty of Christ’s appearance. But the terms may have specific individual significance, “honor” referring to exalted status and “glory” to Christ’s splendid appearance.7 For on that occasion, the Gospel writers tell us, Christ’s “face was changed” (Luke 9:29), shining “like the sun” (Matt. 17:2), and his “clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them” (Mark 9:3; cf. Matt. 17:2; Luke 9:29). Bright, shining, or white clothing often symbolizes purity and victory and is associated in Jewish apocalyptic with the coming of Messiah. And Jesus’ shining face reminds us inevitably of the glow on Moses’ face after he had been with the Lord on Mount Sinai (Ex. 34:29–30). Unlike Moses’ face, however, which only reflected the glory of God, Christ’s face shone with the glory that was intrinsic to him as both Messiah and God.
Christ’s exalted status is indicated in the Transfiguration events especially by the accompanying signs and by the voice from heaven. Several elements in the narrative—the “high mountain,” the cloud that “enveloped them” (Mark 9:7)—point to the event as a theophany (a manifestation of God). But most decisive, of course, is the voice from heaven, proclaiming Jesus as God’s beloved Son. And it is this voice that Peter highlights in his account: “The voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.’ ” “Majestic Glory” is a substitute for the name of God, a practice common among the Jews who held the names of God in such high regard that they rarely pronounced them.
Peter’s version of the voice that came from heaven at the time of the Transfiguration does not agree exactly (in the Greek) with the version we find in any of the Gospels, though it is closest to Matthew’s wording: “ ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him’ ” (17:5).8 Scholars have accordingly debated the source of Peter’s wording. But it is surely simplest, when we remember that Peter was on the mountain to hear the voice (cf. the next verse, in which he stresses this very fact), to think that Peter is quoting the words from memory.
What is obviously of greatest importance is the import of the words. They gain their impact from allusions to two key Old Testament texts. “This is my Son” alludes to the language of Psalm 2:7, in which God addresses the messianic King; and “with whom I am well pleased” is language drawn from the first “Suffering Servant” song in Isaiah (42:1). The voice from heaven, therefore, identifies Jesus as both Messiah and Suffering Servant. More important, perhaps, for Peter’s purposes, are the implications of Jesus as Son of God. As this conception is developed in the New Testament, it becomes clear that far more than an “official” status is intended by the designation; Jesus is, in some manner, identified with God the Father in a more essential, or even ontological, way (see particularly John 10:30; 14:5–11).9
In verse 16, Peter stressed that he was an “eyewitness” of this event. Now, in verse 18, he reminds his readers that he was an “ear-witness” also: “We ourselves heard this voice.” As the Gospel accounts make clear, the “we” here includes Peter, James, and John (see Mark 9:2 and parallels). Jesus selected these three from among the apostolic band so that they might be “with him on the sacred mountain.” Many scholars think that the phrase “sacred mountain” reflects a time in the second or third generation of Christianity when the sites of Jesus’ life had been hallowed by tradition. But there is no need for such an assumption. “Sacred” translates hagios, which can also be rendered “holy.” Some think Peter denotes the mountain as “holy” because the Transfiguration itself had made it a place “set apart.”10 Others think that Peter may be reinforcing the allusion to the experience of Moses at Sinai that is so prominent in the Gospel accounts. But Bauckham notes that Sinai is never called the “holy mountain,” whereas Psalm 2:6 uses precisely this phrase just before the words to which the voice from heaven alludes:
“I have installed my King
on Zion, my holy hill.”
I will proclaim the decree of the LORD:
He said to me, ‘You are my Son….’
Peter thus accentuates the notion of Jesus’ kingship revealed in the Transfiguration experience.11
Before we leave this paragraph, we need to tackle one other issue, central to its function in the letter: Why does Peter allude to the Transfiguration to confirm the truth of Jesus’ return in glory? Why not, for instance, refer to Jesus’ resurrection or ascension, at which time an angel promised that Jesus would come back (see Acts 1:9–11)? Several unconvincing answers to this question have been offered, the best known being that the Transfiguration is really a post-resurrection appearance of Jesus that the early church read back into the life of Jesus. But in addition to suffering from a number of specific problems, this explanation is obviously incompatible with what the Bible says of the experience. The most likely explanation is that the Transfiguration experience had an intimate relationship to the Parousia of Jesus from the start.
We find a number of pointers in this direction. (1) The Synoptic Gospels preface the Transfiguration narrative with Jesus’ prediction that some of the apostles would not die before they saw that glory of the kingdom (Matt. 17:1; Mark 9:1; Luke 9:27). The most natural interpretation is to find this prediction fulfilled in the Transfiguration, when only a few of the apostles (Peter, James, and John) saw Jesus’ intrinsic glory. (2) The Synoptic Evangelists usually use the word “glory” in connection with the Parousia. (3) Later Christian tradition connected Jesus’ transfiguration with the Parousia.12 (4) As its name suggests, the Transfiguration involves a transformation in Jesus’ appearance, but it is a transformation that reveals his true nature. It is this glorious and majestic nature, hidden, as it were, during his earthly life, that will be revealed to all the world at the time of his return. Put simply, the Transfiguration reveals Jesus as the glorious King, and Peter was there to see it. He therefore has utter confidence that Jesus will return as the glorious King and establish his kingdom in its final and ultimate form.
The Testimony of the Prophets to the Parousia (vv. 19–21)
THE RELIABILITY OF revelation is the idea that links verses 16–18 and verses 19–21. Peter, James, and John can testify to the revelation of Christ’s glory in the Transfiguration. But also testifying to Christ’s glorious appearance at the end of history are the prophets.
“We have the word of the prophets made more certain” (v. 19a) is somewhat unclear. (1) Who is included in the “we”? Peter and the other apostles, as in verses 16–18?13 Or Peter and his readers? It is probably the latter, because Peter goes on in this verse to address his readers directly (“you will do well to pay attention …”). This suggests that Peter’s focus has turned away from the apostles and to his own readers.
(2) What is the “prophetic word”? It could be the Transfiguration itself, an event, as we have just seen, that is prophetic of Christ’s coming again in glory.14 But the language Peter uses would be a most unusual way to describe an event, however much it may carry future reference. Probably, then, the “prophetic word” is a collection of oral or written prophecies. Some think that Peter might have in mind the entire Old Testament or even Old and New Testament prophecy. But the context suggests rather that he refers specifically to Old Testament prophecies about the kingdom to be established by the Messiah at the end of history. This, as we have seen, is the point at issue in 2 Peter.
(3) What does Peter mean with the comparative “made more sure”? “Sure” translates a Greek word (bebaios) that refers to the certainty and reliability of promises and agreements (see, e.g., Rom. 4:16; Heb. 6:16, 19). Peter may be saying, then, that the Old Testament prophecies are an even more certain basis for belief in the Parousia than eyewitness testimony about the Transfiguration.15 But the Greek probably cannot bear this meaning. We think, rather, that Peter is suggesting that his testimony about the Transfiguration gives to the prophetic word an even greater certainty than it had before. The prophets predicted that Messiah would establish a universal and glorious reign. Some in the early church may have so spiritualized these prophecies that they eliminated any future reference. The Transfiguration, an anticipation of Christ’s ultimate kingdom glory, shows that the words of the prophets, at this point at least, must be taken with full literal force. Thus Christians can be even more confident of their fulfillment.
Confidence in the reliability of the prophetic word should lead to a firm adherence to its teaching. Consequently, Peter urges his readers to “pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place.” The comparison of God’s word to a light is common in Scripture, one of the more famous instances being Psalm 119:105: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.” In the darkness of this present world, God’s word casts light on his purposes and plans and so enables believers to live as those who are “in the day” (see Rom. 13:11–12). In this text in Romans, Paul picks up from the Old Testament prophets the idea of “the day of the Lord”—that time when God will intervene decisively in history to save his people and judge his enemies. As the Romans text demonstrates, New Testament writers proclaimed that, with the death and resurrection of Christ, God had fulfilled his promises about that day. But they were equally insistent that these past redemptive events did not include all that God has intended to do in saving his people and judging his enemies. The “day of the Lord” still awaits its culmination.
It is this as yet unfulfilled aspect of the day that Peter here picks up: He wants his readers to pay attention to the prophetic word “until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” The “day,” as we have seen, is an Old Testament metaphor for the eschatological climax. “Morning star” translates a word that means, literally, “light-bringer” (phosphoros). People in the ancient world usually used the word to denote the planet Venus, which often appears just before dawn. Some commentators think that it cannot have this meaning here, since Peter refers to it after the dawning of the day. But Peter is probably not intending a chronological order in the phrases. The dawning of the day refers generally to the eschatological climax, whereas the rising of the morning star in the heart refers to the effects of that climax in the life of the believer. “Morning star” may refer to Christ himself, since Scripture elsewhere uses “star” as a messianic reference (Num. 24:17; Rev. 22:16). The clause, then, “is a pictorial description of the way in which, at His coming, Christ will dissipate the doubt and uncertainty by which [believers’] hearts are meanwhile beclouded and will fill them with a marvelous illumination.”16
But what is it that believers know? There are two main possibilities, well represented by the NIV translation on the one hand and the REB rendering on the other:
NIV: “no prophecy of Scripture came about by the prophet’s own interpretation”
REB: “No prophetic writing is a matter for private interpretation.”
These quite different interpretations are created by three ambiguities in the Greek text.
(1) The verb in this sentence (ginetai) is vague in meaning. The NIV translation “came about” and the REB translation “is a matter of” are both fair renderings.17
(2) Critical for the differing interpretations is the Greek word idias, which means “one’s own.” The NIV takes this to refer to the prophet. It therefore suggests that the issue in verse 20 is the origin of prophecy: It did not come about through the prophet’s own fallible and quite possibly mistaken notions about the visions he saw or the words he heard. Rather, as verse 21 asserts, it came about through the sovereign work of God in his Spirit.18 The REB, on the other hand, applies “one’s own” generally to any particular individual. It therefore sees verse 20 as a statement about the interpretation of prophecy: It should not be given whatever meaning a particular individual (who may have his own ax to grind) wants to give it. Peter would then be suggesting either that there is only one true interpretation of prophecy19 or that the church at large, rather than self-appointed individuals, should be responsible for its interpretation.20
(3) The Greek construction connecting verses 19 and 20 (a participle) can indicate a close relationship between the verses or an indirect one. Most English versions put a period after verse 19 and begin verse 20 with a new sentence. This could match either of the interpretations of verse 20. But if the NIV interpretation is adopted, it is tempting to connect the verses more closely, giving the participle a causal meaning: Believers are to pay attention to the prophetic word (the main point of v. 19) because they know first of all that it does not originate from human beings (v. 20), but from God (v. 21).
A decision between these two interpretations of verse 20 is difficult. Each fits well into the context. An emphasis on the origin of prophecy fits well with Peter’s concern in verse 19 to get his readers to pay closer attention to prophecy. But a reminder that prophecy is not a matter of private interpretation would make a fitting response to the false teachers, who were probably twisting Scripture to suit their own purposes. In the last analysis, however, we think the interpretation reflected in the NIV should be accepted. It suits the immediate context best, affording a natural basis for the command in verse 19. Moreover, the word “interpretation” also points in this direction. The Greek word means, literally, an “untying” or “unraveling,” and it was widely used to denote the explanation of mysterious events, visions, and sayings. One Greek version of the Old Testament, for instance, used this word to describe Joseph’s interpretations of the baker’s and butler’s dreams in Genesis 40 and 41.21 Thus the word is better suited to describe the prophet’s own interpretation of the visions and revelations given to them than to characterize the interpretation of the prophets’ words by believers in Peter’s day.
If verse 20 is about the correct interpretation of prophecy, then Peter presumably intends verse 21 as indirect support: People must not interpret prophecy according to their own whim and fancy because the prophets spoke what the Holy Spirit intended them to speak.22 But the allusive nature of this connection in itself gives further support to the interpretation of verse 20 that we argued above. On this view, then, Peter in verse 21 reinforces what he has said about the origin of prophecy in verse 20. The prophets’ predictions did not arise from their own private ideas about what the visions they received meant; “for,” as he now explains further, what the prophets said did not have “its origin in the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.”
The belief that the prophets spoke for God is, of course, basic to the Scriptures. As the Lord said to Jeremiah when he protested that he did not know what to say to the people of Judah, “ ‘I have put my words in your mouth’ ” (Jer. 1:9). False prophets, on the other hand, were those who “follow their own spirit” (Ezek. 13:3) and “speak visions from their own minds, not from the mouth of the LORD” (Jer. 23:16).
Peter’s reassertion of this standard biblical teaching may have been sparked by the false teachers. At a later date, the Ebionites, radical Jewish Christians, claimed that the prophets spoke “of their own intelligence and not the truth.”23 It may be that the false teachers Peter is fighting held similar views. In any case, Peter insists that the prophets were God’s spokesmen, “carried along” by the Holy Spirit. Many commentators find a sailing metaphor in these words; as Green puts it, “The prophets raised their sails … and the Holy Spirit filled them and carried them along in the direction He wished.”24 Peter may well intend the allusion, since the verb he uses here can refer to a boat “driven along” by the wind (see Acts 27:15, 17). But the verb is a common one, and it certainly does not usually refer to sailing. More relevant, then, is the fact that Peter has used this same verb in verses 17 and 18 to describe the divine voice that “came” from heaven. The words Peter and the other apostles heard from heaven at the Transfiguration and the words that the prophets spoke came from the same place: God himself.
The prophets, then, speak God’s words. But do they also speak their own words? Some theologians have so emphasized God’s role in prophetic (and biblical) inspiration that they have viewed the prophets themselves as passive mouthpieces. But note what Peter says here: “Men spoke from God.” He is not denying that the prophecies were genuinely the words of the prophets themselves, men who consciously chose their words in accordance with their own vocabulary, style, and circumstances. What Peter does affirm, however, is that the words they chose to use were also the words that God wanted them to use to communicate the message he intended.
Bridging Contexts
RELEVANT AND APPROPRIATE application of this section must be especially sensitive to the wider biblical context on three matters: the Transfiguration (vv. 16–18), the imagery of “the day” (v. 19), and the inspiration of the Scriptures (vv. 20–21).
The story of Jesus’ transfiguration comes at a critical juncture in each of the Synoptic Gospels (Matt. 17:1–8; Mark 9:2–8; Luke 9:28–36). Matthew, Mark, and Luke agree in placing it shortly after Peter’s confession of Jesus’ exalted status and of Jesus’ subsequent announcement that he would be going to Jerusalem to suffer and to be crucified (Matt. 16:13–28; Mark 8:31–9:1; Luke 9:18–27). Indeed, the Evangelists are at pains to make clear that the Transfiguration occurred shortly after these events, providing a rare note of specific chronology: “after six days” (Matt. 17:1; Mark 9:2; Luke has “about eight days after” [9:28]). At the level of the first disciples, therefore, the experience served to bolster their confidence in Jesus. For Jesus’ solemn warning about his coming death must have perplexed them. If Jesus was truly the Son of God, the Messiah, would he not be going to Jerusalem to be crowned rather than crucified? Thus the revelation of Jesus’ glory, along with the endorsement from heaven itself in the divine voice, served to reassure Peter and the others.
But especially important for Peter’s use of the story is the thoroughly eschatological flavor of the narratives. As we noted above, each Evangelist places just before the Transfiguration a prediction from Jesus that some of his disciples would see “the kingdom of God” (Luke 19:27)/“the Son of Man coming in his kingdom” (Matt. 16:28)/“the kingdom of God come with power” (Mark 9:1)—the fulfillment of which comes in the Transfiguration. Other elements in the story point in the same eschatological direction. The presence of Elijah reminds us of the prediction of Malachi (applied in the New Testament to John the Baptist) that God would “send you the prophet Elijah before the great and dreadful day of the LORD comes” (Mal. 4:5). And Moses, while most famous as Israel’s lawgiver, also has eschatological significance, based especially on the promise that God would “raise up for you a prophet like me [Moses]” (Deut. 18:15). That this role of Moses is in view is suggested by the heavenly voice, which in its command to “listen to him” echoes Moses’ demand that the people listen to this coming prophet like him. Pointing in the same direction are the mention of the cloud, which often has eschatological associations (see, e.g., Ps. 97:2; Isa. 4:5; Ezek. 30:3; Dan. 7:13), and Peter’s desire to erect “booths,” probably alluding to the Feast of the Tabernacles, or “Booths,” a celebration filled with allusions to God’s final intervention in history.25
These many allusions show how justified Peter was in using the Transfiguration event as evidence for the Parousia. Clearly Peter and the other apostles did not know how the timing would work out; even after his resurrection, Jesus had to warn them that they would not know “the times or dates” when the kingdom would be restored to Israel (Acts 1:6–7). But the apostles could be certain that the Parousia would occur; they had, in effect, already seen it.
A second allusion in this paragraph can also be better appreciated when we set it in its larger biblical context: Peter’s reference to the dawning of “the day.” As noted above, Peter undoubtedly here alludes to the widespread concept of “the day of the Lord.” We must explore that concept further. The roots of this concept go back to passages in the Pentateuch that speak of a certain “day” when God would visit his people for judgment or deliverance (see, e.g., Deut. 30:17–18). Several of the prophets use the phrase with this reference, treating it as a concept well-known to the people. This comes out especially clear in Joel, who warns the people who were looking forward with anticipation to “the day” that their sins will make it for them a time of sadness and distress rather than joy (Joel 1:15; 2:1–11). Yet for the remnant, those “who call on the name of the LORD,” the day will bring salvation (2:28–32; see also 3:14–16, where the “day” brings judgment on the nations but deliverance for Israel).26 Most interpreters agree that “the day” in the Old Testament refers both to times of judgment and deliverance within Israel’s history (e.g., the Exile) and to a climactic visitation from God at the end of history.27
Granted the early church’s understanding of Jesus, we should find it as no surprise that the New Testament speaks not only about “the day of the Lord” or “the day of God” but also about “the day of the Lord Jesus,” or some such variant.28 But, as in the Old Testament, this “day” is pictured both as a time of judgment (“the day of wrath” [Rom. 2:5; cf. also 2:16; Eph. 6:13; 1 Thess. 5:4]) and as a time of vindication and deliverance for the saints (e.g., Eph. 4:30; Phil. 1:10; 2:16; 2 Thess. 1:10). But, unlike the Old Testament, the New Testament writers use the phrase consistently to refer to the end of history, to the time when Jesus Christ will return in glory and power.
We cannot fully appreciate Peter’s reference to “the day,” however, unless we recognize a second level of metaphor—a level that comes out clearly in Romans 13:12–13a, where Paul uses “the day” as both a theological reference and as a metaphor for godly moral conduct: “The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us behave decently, as in the daytime….” In the ancient world, darkness was the time for evil marauders to come out and was thus to be feared, as well as the time when sins of the flesh were especially common (in the Romans text just quoted, Paul goes on to warn about “orgies and drunkenness … sexual immorality and debauchery … dissension and jealousy”). Thus darkness and nighttime became widespread as metaphors for evil, while their contrasts, light and daytime, were applied to purity and upright behavior. In the New Testament, John is especially fond of the “light/darkness” imagery (cf., e.g., John 3:19–21).
Finally, “light” and “day” also can refer to revelation, as God’s word, or Christ himself (“the light of the world”), illuminates the darkness of this present evil age.
Peter’s main reference here is clearly to the first of these associations, since he speaks about the coming of “the day.” But we can detect a train of thought in which he brings into his context the two metaphorical associations of the language. The revelatory allusion is seen, of course, in his reference to the “word of the prophets” as a “light shining in a dark place.” And, while less clear, the rising of the morning star in the hearts of believers may allude to the completion of God’s morally transforming work in the lives of his people.
Central to this paragraph is a debate about the return of Christ in glory—the Parousia. The debate is not just about when the Parousia will take place or what will happen in what sequence when it does, but about whether it will happen at all. On the one side are those who claim that the idea of the Parousia is based on “cleverly invented stories” (cf. 1:16). While Peter does not name the perpetrators of this accusation, they are clearly the false teachers whom he describes in chapter 2. On the other side of the debate are Peter and his fellow apostles, who are sure that Christ will return in glory because they have seen the eschatological glory of Christ with their own eyes (vv. 16–18) and find the Parousia predicted in the authoritative Word of God.
The underlying issue that this paragraph raises, therefore, is the issue of authority. What is our basis for believing that certain things—like the return of Christ in glory—is true? In order to enhance our application of this passage, we propose in this section to use what Peter says in these verses as a jumping-off point to explore the biblical teaching about authority.
We begin with the negative side of the issue: myth. From verse 16 we can infer that the false teachers were accusing Peter and the other apostles of basing their teaching about the Parousia on “cleverly invented stories [myths].”29 We cannot understand what this accusation really means until we sort out the meaning of the slippery term myth. Today we often use this term to denote a story or fact that is not true. Thus, for instance, we might hear a sportscaster say, “The story that the coach plans on retiring is a myth.” But we are also familiar with the term as a designation of ancient stories about gods and goddesses; hence, we speak of “Greek mythology.” When used in this way, myth still carries the assumption that the stories are untrue, but there is an additional idea: The stories contain important information about the religious, cultural, and intellectual beliefs of the Greeks. In other words, while not “true” in the historical sense, these myths tell us a great deal about the Greeks’ view of the world. Aristotle, for instance, claims that “the mythical form is chosen to make apprehension possible for the masses, for their religious and ethical instruction.”30 In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, certain biblical critics extensively utilized this concept of myth as a useful way to retain religious significance for the New Testament even as they dismissed as unhistorical most of its narratives.31
We must reckon with this widespread use of the term myth in Hellenistic philosophy and religion to appreciate the New Testament reaction to it. In contrast to almost all other religions of the time, Christianity had a stubbornly historical basis. The apostles insisted that the truth of what they preached about Jesus, while extending far beyond the historical realm, was nevertheless dependent on actual time and space events. The theological significance of Jesus’ resurrection is not a historical datum; but without a real resurrection in “space and time,” there can be no theological significance at all—we are “still in [our] sins” (1 Cor. 15:17).
We are not surprised, then, in finding that the Greek word mythos has a consistently negative nuance in the New Testament. It occurs only four other times, all in the Pastoral Letters. Paul may possibly be referring there to speculative stories about Old Testament events and people such as we find in the Midrash, labeling them “Jewish myths” (Titus 1:14; cf. also 1 Tim. 1:4, with its reference to “endless genealogies”; also 4:7; 2 Tim. 4:4). But the important point for our purposes is that Paul contrasts these myths with “the truth” (2 Tim. 4:4). In these letters at least, myths convey no positive spiritual significance.
As we suggested above, Peter seems to use mythos in a similar way. The false teachers are denying the reality of Christ’s return in glory by accusing Peter and the other apostles of basing their teaching on myths. It could be argued, of course, that the false teachers were suggesting that there was a kernel of truth in the story of the Parousia—that, like the religious myths we mentioned earlier, the story, though untrue, had some religious benefit. But Peter says nothing to indicate this; and in calling them “cleverly invented” myths, he suggests a more consistently negative meaning.
Set in contrast to these myths as the authority for Peter’s prediction of the Parousia are eyewitness testimony and the “word of the prophets.” The testimony of people who had “been there” is, of course, directly related to the historical basis for the Parousia. Peter, James, and John saw—not in a vision or a dream, but at a specific time and place in history—Jesus’ Parousia glory. And Peter wants us to believe that Christ will come again in glory because he did see this. He is not alone in claiming authority for eyewitness testimony. Paul, in the famous resurrection chapter (quoted above), insists that the Corinthians accept the truth of resurrection because Peter, “the Twelve,” “five hundred of the brothers,” James, “all the apostles,” and, finally, Paul himself saw the resurrected Christ (1 Cor. 15:3–8). And John also claims he is proclaiming what “we have heard, which we have seen with our own eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched” (1 John 1:1).
The second authority Peter claims for his teaching about the Parousia is “the word of the prophets” (v. 19). In order to make sure that his readers appreciate the strength of this authority, he reminds them that this word, or message, is not the prophets’ alone—it is also God’s. In verses 20–21, Peter develops this point and gives to us one of the more important biblical testimonies about the inspiration of Scripture.
“Inspiration” means “breathed in”; and Christian theologians use this word to describe the quality of Scripture according to which it is the product of God’s “breathing” his words into it. Perhaps the classic text is 2 Timothy 3:16: “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness.” “Scripture” here is, of course, the Old Testament; but the text establishes that whatever appropriately be considered “Scripture” carries the quality of being “God-breathed.”32 Jesus attests to the same idea, when, in response to Satan’s temptation, he cites Deuteronomy 8:3: “ ‘Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God’ ” (Matt. 4:4). Likewise, the author of Hebrews begins his letter by noting that “in the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets,” and he repeatedly attributes the words of the Old Testament to God (e.g., 4:7; 8:8) and the Holy Spirit (e.g., 3:7; 10:15).
In fact, both Old and New Testaments are permeated with the notion that the words of the prophets and the Scriptures are words from God. Thus, Peter’s claim that the “word of the prophets” is not the product of their own infallible imagination (v. 20) but of God himself and that the prophets were “carried along” by the Holy Spirit as they spoke (v. 21) is nothing new.
But two points in these verses require a closer look. (1) What does Peter include in “the word of the prophets”? Some theologians think that the reference is to the entire Old Testament Scriptures. They note that the Jews could occasionally use the category of “prophecy” to describe the Scriptures as a whole.33 But in the New Testament at least, “prophecy” does not usually have so broad a meaning. Peter is most likely referring specifically to the prophetic parts of the Old Testament. Some might therefore want to conclude that Peter attributes divine influence only to the prophetic part of the Old Testament. But this goes far beyond the evidence of the text. We think it more likely that, while speaking specifically about the prophets (for this was Peter’s need in this context), Peter would apply his ascriptions to the Old Testament as a whole.
(2) A second controversial matter is the way in which God spoke “through” the prophets. In the Hellenistic world of Peter’s day, the idea of people “inspired” by a god and speaking his words was widespread. And, often, the human being involved in the process was thought to be almost entirely passive: The god took possession of the person and used his or her organs to communicate the divine message. Some Christian theologians have come close to adopting this model in their explanation of biblical inspiration. Gregory the Great, for instance, compared the authors of Scripture to the “pen of the Spirit”;34 and one can find similar metaphors throughout the history of the church. This view of inspiration is often called the “dictation” theory. But most theologians have recognized the need for a better balance between the human and the divine author in the production of Scripture. As we noted above, “men spoke from God.” The words of Scripture throughout bear the imprint of the human authors: in style, background imagery, genre, etc. Scripture is, at the same time, the product both of human beings and of God.
This human-divine interplay is called “concurrence.” In this process, we believe, God prepared specific human beings, through birth, environment, etc., to communicate his word. These human beings genuinely spoke their own words. But the words they used were also just those words that God wanted them to use. Imbalance on this point is fatal. To deny the human element in Scripture is to ignore the reality of the individual personalities, writing styles, situations, etc., that make up much of the richness of God’s Word. But to deny the divine element or to reduce it simply to a vague influence is to deprive the words of Scripture of their truthfulness and, therefore, ultimately, of their authority.
Contemporary Significance
JOHN STOTT HAS called on Christians to devote themselves to “BBC”: basic, balanced Christianity. To be sure, balance can sometimes become an excuse for not thinking hard enough about issues—to come down in the middle because it is easier than really working through the alternatives to discover where the truth lies. But balance, as long as it is the product of careful thinking and not of superficiality, is a valuable commodity in the Christian faith. Heresies usually begin with imbalance. In applying 2 Peter 1:16–21, I would like to look at two issues that demand just such balance.
On the inspiration of Scripture. As we mentioned at the end of our treatment in the previous section on inspiration, the claims of the Bible itself demand that we fully acknowledge both that specific human beings, with all their individual idiosyncracies, wrote the words of Scripture, and that God caused the words he wanted to be written to be written. We noted that some theologians in the course of church history have emphasized the second point at the expense of the first, leading to a “mechanical dictation” theory of inspiration. The human author, on this view, becomes nothing more than the dictaphone that passively has transmitted God’s words to others. I have found that this kind of error is still present in the church. Christians who are rightly concerned about the authority of Scripture will often resist the idea, for instance, that commands in Scripture may be intended for only a limited audience.
An example of this is the requirement in 1 Corinthians 11 that a woman wear a “sign of authority” on her head (we will leave aside here the question of whether this refers to a veil or a hairstyle). Some Christians believe this passage requires women always to wear some sort of veil in the public worship service. But most Christians, correctly I think, believe that Paul is giving advice about a form of dress particular to that century and that its application in our time may take a different form.
An even better example might be the differences in word meanings that we find within Scripture. For instance, it is well known that John consistently labels Jesus’ miracles as “signs” in his Gospel; recall the famous summary: “Jesus did many other miraculous signs [Greek semeia] in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you might have life in his name.” The writers of the first three Gospels, on the other hand, use “sign” in a negative sense: When the Pharisees ask Jesus for a “sign,” Jesus responds: “A wicked and adulterous generation looks for a miraculous sign [semeion, the same Greek word as in John], but none will be given it except the sign of Jonah” (Matt. 16:4).
Occasionally when I have pointed out this difference in the nuance of the Greek word semeion in classes, students find the difference troubling, thinking that such a contrast might detract from the truthfulness of Scripture. But I see this simply as an aspect of the human element of Scripture. God, while ensuring that each of the Evangelists wrote what he wanted them to write, left the writers free to choose their own vocabulary. The contexts in which they used words make it clear enough that John gives a different meaning to semeion than do the Synoptic Evangelists. For the former, a semeion was a miracle that pointed to Jesus’ true significance; for the latter, it was a “command performance,” a circus trick that people expected of Jesus in order to be convinced of who he was. But the point is that our doctrine of inspiration should have no difficulty accommodating these kinds of phenomena.
It is obvious, however, that the bigger problem in our day lies in an imbalance in the other direction—giving the human element of Scripture so much attention that the divine element is eliminated or constricted. For many, the Bible is “inspired” in only the loosest sense—as, for example, some might think Wordsworth was “inspired” as he wrote The Prelude. But among confessing Christians also we sometimes encounter those who insist that God must have “accommodated” himself to the human writers of Scripture. The result, they suggest, is that we still have errors in the Bible. Writers such as Paul Jewett suggest, for instance, that we need not take as authoritative what Paul says about the ministry of women in 2 Timothy 2:11–15 because Paul was reflecting the male prejudice of his day.35 Here, I would argue, we have an imbalance in which the divine author of Scripture is given too little place. God, by nature, does not lie; he cannot utter a falsehood. If, then, the words of Scripture are genuinely God’s words (cf. our survey of the biblical evidence in the previous section), then the words of Scripture must be without error.
And this debate is no mere academic quibbling, for the authority of Scripture to challenge our beliefs and actions is directly dependent on its full truthfulness. Allow mistakes in the Bible (even in matters of history, dating, geography, etc.), and we have no way of limiting those mistakes. We possess no “red letter” editions of the Scriptures that highlight those sections that are really true. If we did, people would inevitably view the truthfulness and authority of Scripture through the lenses of their own culture and personal tendencies. Homosexuals seeking to avoid biblical condemnation for their lifestyle will suggest that the biblical authors were simply reflecting the homophobia of the Jewish culture and will dismiss the texts in which we find such condemnations. American Christians, wanting to maintain their luxurious and wasteful lifestyle, will suggest that biblical passages about wealth reflect lower-class prejudices. The list can be extended indefinitely.
We do not deny that the strongest doctrine of Scripture imaginable still leaves us with many questions of interpretation. But we maintain that an appropriate recognition of the Bible as a divine book, bearing necessarily throughout the imprint of God’s utter truthfulness, will act as an important defense against explaining away some of the “hard truths” of Scripture.
An apologetic method. A second matter requiring balance implied in this passage is an apologetic method. How are we to establish the truthfulness of the claims of Christianity and convince people to respond appropriately? We can find Christian apologists at two ends of a spectrum. At one end are those who are called “evidentialists”: They think that good apologetics will seek to win converts by arguing on the basis of the historical evidence. Examples of this approach (though not necessarily extreme examples) are J. N. D. Anderson, The Evidence for the Resurrection, and Frank Morrison’s Who Moved the Stone?36 On the other side are those who argue that the non-Christian cannot be argued into the kingdom and that evidences will do little to convince a hardened sinner whose mind is blinded by Satan of the truthfulness of Christianity. Cornelius van Till and his disciples are the most famous exponents of this apologetic approach, which focuses on revelation and the work of the Spirit.37
We cannot here describe fully each method, the many variations of each, or their respective merits. But we would note that Peter’s appeal to eyewitness testimony in this paragraph suggests the appropriateness of the appeal to evidence. He is, of course, writing to Christians—people already converted. But he certainly has one eye also on the false teachers, and his appeal to the evidence of what he had seen is therefore significant apologetically.
I certainly think that Van Til and others have an important point: Without the work of the Spirit to renew the mind and soften the heart, all the evidence in the world will be useless to bring people to Christ. We must give full credit to Paul’s warning that “the man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Cor. 2:14). But neither can we ignore the many passages, like 2 Peter 1, that appeal to the evidence of events in history as a basis both for apologetics to unbelievers and edification of believers. Peter, preaching to a crowd of Jews on the first Pentecost, proclaims: “God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of the fact. Exalted to the right hand of God, he has received from the Father the promised Holy Spirit and has poured out what you now see and hear” (Acts 2:32–33). Evidence without the work of the Spirit, sought through prayer and the Word, will be of no use; but a refusal to appeal to evidence flies in the face of both the historical nature of revelation and the witness of the early Christians themselves.