What is reality and how do we know that our version of it, our understanding of it, is the way it really is? How do we come to understand something as true?

These are questions that for millennia have plagued philosophers and theologians, sociologists and psychologists, scientists and even those of us who, from time to time, find ourselves lost in reflective thought.

The technical word for such a pursuit is epistemology. Epistemology is the philosophical discipline that deals with how we know things, and how we know that we know them. It deals with how we see, interpret and make sense of the world around us. We all have a filter, a grid through which we interpret the world that tells us what information is important, and then helps us structure that information into a coherent view of the world and our place in it.

Whatever theological tradition we call home, our theologies are heavily influenced by the culture in which we live. Issues of modesty and propriety, for instance, are culturally determined. In Papua New Guinea today there are indigenous cultures in which women live bare-breasted. To their culture, the flap over Janet Jackson’s Super Bowl performance would be perplexing indeed! The teaching of Scripture calls for modesty – but what is modest? How can we read the Bible and not have culture play a significant influence on its interpretation?

In our time and place, theology is linked to rationalism and scientific method. While fundamentalism can sometimes be anti-intellectual, it is more often seeking to prove that belief (which of course means the specific belief system of the theologian in question) is more rational than the alternatives. It is not uncommon, in fact, for theologians – especially systematic theologians – to think of their craft as a science.

Renowned Princeton theologian Archibald Alexander Hodge defined systematic theology as "the science of religion."1 The same goes for H.O. Wiley, Alvah Hovey, and W.G.T. Shedd.2 As well, Lewis Sperry Chafer noted that "Systematic Theology [is] the greatest of all sciences."3 A.H. Strong defined theology as "the science of God and of the relationships between God and the universe."4 R.B. Griffiths even went so far as to write in the Journal of the American Scientific Affiliation an article entitled, "Is Theology a Science?" His conclusion: Yes.

What are we to make of all of this? Why has there been such an ardent attempt to link theology and scientific process? Simply put, science is attractive in its empiricism. Science operates in a systematic fashion to build upon accepted foundations. We are children of the Enlightenment, and Reason sings her siren song even into the ears of the pious. Many theologians, heeding the call of rationalism and scientific inquiry, set out to construct undeniable epistemological foundations for their own systematic theologies.

This made good sense in the throes of the Enlightenment, when the mechanistic world of Newton seemed ready to give up its secrets, when Reason ruled the day so that even God had to pay homage.

The rules of engagement changed, however, and if Einstein’s physics posed a considerable challenge to Newton’s model of the universe, the developments of quantum mechanics made even Einstein uncomfortable. Today, physicists working on "string theory" (as well as other advanced models) are continuing to reshape how we think about the universe.

If you’re sitting under an apple tree, Newton is still able to help you explain the bruise on your forehead, but if you’re firing particles into each other at near-light speed, the universe becomes a confusing place. Even the explanations are confusing: at the subatomic level particles can only be explained in terms of their probability of being in a given place at a given time. We can’t know for sure. Material reality consists of intersecting probability streams. I told you it was confusing. And it makes the modernist claim – there is an objective, "out there," a reality that anyone can plainly see – ring a little hollow.

That’s just the scientific end of things. In philosophy and linguistics, thinkers like Derrida, Baudrillard, Saussere, Foucalt and others have also challenged our assumptions about objective reality. Everything has a context, and everything is interpreted. Suddenly "hermeneutics" is not just a class preachers take in seminary, but a field of inquiry applied to every aspect of life. This has presented a serious challenge to the way Christ-followers understand the text and narratives of our faith, leaving the world of believers as stunned and confused as many in the scientific community.

A Crisis of Knowing

Maslow said that with a hammer in your hand, you tend to see the whole world as a nail. With the hammer of Reason firmly in hand, even religion became a nail to the modern mind. This fostered a growing disdain for the pre-modern world that valued awe, wonder and mystery. Everything collapsed into a flatland of empirical rationalism. For something to be true, it must succumb to measurement and observation. It must be quantifiable.

Soon, religion, like science, began to worship at the altar of "standardization, specialization, centralization, synchronization, concentration, and maximization."5 Everywhere men of God were trading in their vestments and sacraments for scholarly robes and philosophical treatises. The Industrial revolution had finally hit the church and its educational avenues in full swing. The world, it seemed, would at last be conquered by all the advantages of modern technology and the power of its certain logic combined with its assembly line conversion processes. But then science began to blink.

In order to understand the wall into which science was about to run, it is helpful to understand its foundational belief system. For a long time science operated according to the principle of realism, which is to say that the scientist "assumed that theories were accurate descriptions of the world as it is in itself."6 Scientific examination assumed a one-to-one correlation between reality and observation. But gradually things began to change. Paul Hiebert summarizes it this way:

There were three major attacks on the epistemological foundations of naïve realism, all reflecting the growing study by scientists of the scientific process itself. First in the physical sciences, Albert Einstein in relativity, Niels Bohr in quantum mechanics, and others showed that the personal factor of the scientist inevitably enters into scientific knowledge. Second, social science began to study the psychological, social, and cultural factors involved in the scientific endeavor and demonstrated that there are no unbiased theories. Science is built on the cultural assumptions of the West and is deeply influenced by social and psychological processes. Third, such historians and philosophers of science as Micael Polanyi, Thomas Kuhn, and Larry Laudan found that science is not cumulative and exhaustive. It is a sequence of competing paradigms or models of reality. But if theories taken as fact today are replaced by others tomorrow, what is the nature of scientific knowledge? Clearly we can no longer equate scientific knowledge about reality with reality itself… Whatever science is, science is not a photograph of reality."7

The answer to this naïve idealism, the belief that truth may be viewed as a photograph, is either to despair that true knowledge is impossible – the fallback of the extreme postmodern – or to embrace what some like Hiebert are calling critical realism: the recognition that truth is to be viewed much like a map pointing the way to a higher truth.

Unlike a photograph that bears, ostensibly, a one-to-one correlation to reality, a map is "literal" – it has a concrete referent – and yet is symbolic. These concepts are playing a role in science and theology alike.

Was Jesus a Critical Realist?

The question is difficult, of course. On one hand, as a first-century Palestinian peasant, Jesus was a premodern thinker for whom the choice between idealism and critical realism did not exist. On the other hand, as the divine Logos, the Word incarnate, Jesus was and possessed a transcendent wisdom that defies human category. Given this difficulty, however, we can fruitfully look at some examples from Scripture that help to illustrate what we’re talking about.

Early in the gospel of John, his narrative tells us of a confrontation at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry with temple merchants. When pressed for a sign that justifies his actions, Jesus tells them, "Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up" (Jn. 2:19).

In that sentence we have the truth as known, and told, by Jesus. The statement stands as is; the interpretation of this truth is left to the hearer. Some decisions needed to be made in order to understand his statement. Was Jesus offering a one-to-one correlation to reality, a verbal photo mirroring a rebuilt temple in three days, if Herod’s temple would be torn down? What was reality? What was true?

The answer to that question is seen in the response of the Jews: "This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?" The Jews in Jesus’ audience were idealists in the way they chose to interpret his words. In retrospect, we know what Jesus meant. The gospel of John adds, "But he was speaking of the temple of his body." In view of this footnote by the Gospel writer, an alternative interpretation, however forced, would seem rather silly. It wasn’t silly, however, in the setting of Second Temple Judaism.

The construction of the temple was begun by Herod the Great in 20 B.C. It was not completed until the time of Herod Agrippa in A.D. 64. Depending on the age of those confronting Jesus, most likely the temple construction had been a regular part of their cultural upbringing for most, if not all, of their lives. It was all they had ever known. It was as much a part of their world as was the necessity of going to the marketplace to buy food. The construction of the temple was so much a part of their daily lives that they could not envision a greater day than when it would be completed. And yet this brazen, young, self-proclaimed prophet was standing before them saying that if it were to be torn down he could rebuild it in three days. This was the one point Jesus’ audience failed to challenge, and as a result, they missed the deeper truth.

What could he be thinking, they must have asked.

Good question indeed. What was Jesus thinking? If he were thinking in terms of a photograph – temple comes down, temple is rebuilt – he was indeed disillusioned. But, if he were thinking in terms of a map, leading to a higher truth, perhaps the reality of his message was much different than the culture of his day could, or was willing, to accept.

Well, we know the story well and are comforted at the thought that Jesus was in fact alluding to a much higher truth, something far more significant – the temple of his body and his resurrection (Jn. 2:21).

Just a few chapters later in the gospel of John, we are again presented with a situation demanding interpretation. The setting is John 6 and the feeding of the multitude. Jesus’ after-dinner address included a bit about their need to gain eternal life by eating his flesh and drinking his blood. Jesus was speaking metaphorically, but his audience failed to grasp this. Ronald Niebuhr said that fundamentalists fail because they take the Bible too literally, while liberals fail to take the Bible seriously. Jesus was serious, to be sure, but he wasn’t speaking literally. The literal, idealist interpretation led his audience to conclude that he was a nut case; by taking him literally, they failed to take him seriously.

Jesus meant that people must consume him as the Savior of all mankind, that they must imbibe his teachings and accept his way of life as their sustenance. In his mind, Jesus did not lay out a photograph before these folks, rather, he provided them with a map leading to eternal life. As with all maps, it contained a higher truth. But the people opted for an epistemological outlook that would allow nothing less than a photo, and it was their loss.

Consistently throughout the fourth Gospel we see Jesus providing us with maps of higher truths: He is the way, the truth, the life, the door, the bread, etc. In none of these instances is he providing an idealist interpretation of either himself or the ministry he came to take up. By giving map after map, Jesus pointed the way to the higher truths that would set the world free, but they could not see these truths because they were blinded by their photographs of cultural spin. There is a saying: "I pointed to the moon, but all you see is my finger." All they saw was the finger.

Are Futurists Idealists?

Today our religious culture has taught us many things about the ministry of Jesus. It has affirmed the stories as told above and clearly shown how the earthly eyes of many of the first-century Jews caused them to miss the message, mission and person we call Messiah. But on other fronts, surprisingly, many followers of Jesus have been equally slow to cast off the interpretive schemes of idealism.

For instance, when we read the words of Jesus proclaiming his victorious arrival on the clouds of heaven (Matt. 16:27, 28; Mk. 8:38; 9:1; Lk. 9:26, 27; Matt. 24:29ff.) many still forsake the critical realism of Jesus (the maps pointing to higher truth) and opt to repeat the same mistakes of 2,000 years ago (viewing photographs instead). The crowds of his day missed his first appearing; the crowds today are missing his second. If we take the Bible too literally, we may fail to take it seriously.

Nowhere is this type of reasoning more apparent than in some of the dispensational arguments being put forth as a defense against the fulfilled view today.

In his book The End Times Controversy (hereafter ETC), Tommy Ice lays out his interpretive scheme by quoting Charles Ryrie to the effect that "Consistently literal or plain interpretation is indicative of a dispensational approach to the interpretation of the Scriptures." He tells us that, along with the distinction between Israel and the church, this is the cornerstone of dispensationalist doctrine.

Citing Bernard Ramm, Ice further defines the concept of a literal interpretive scheme by saying that, "this means interpretation which gives to every word the same meaning it would have in normal usage, whether employed in writing, speaking or thinking."8

Furthermore, quoting E. R. Craven, Ice offers that, "the literalist (so called) is not one who denies that figurative language, that symbols, are used in prophecy, nor does he deny that great spiritual truths are set forth therein; his position is, simply, that the prophecies are to be normally interpreted (i.e., according to received laws of language) as any other utterances are interpreted – that which is manifestly figurative being so regarded."

Ice’s premise, supported by the above quotes, seems to be that when prophecy is read, we are first and foremost to take the plain, literal meaning of the prophecy as the exact way that the prophecy will be fulfilled. In other words, we must read and interpret Scripture idealistically.

To suggest that language is inherently symbolic, and that even apparently plain language can be used in a way that will not support a literal interpretation (which would be the view of the critical realist) would be, for the dispensationalist, to do damage to the clear and plain meaning of the prophetic text.

Ice is so determined that this is the true way of interpretation that he writes, "We suggest that it is wrong to abandon the use of a consistently literal hermeneutic when it comes to interpreting Bible prophecy, for this approach does not change the originally understood meaning of given Bible texts."9 Thus all critical realist approaches are dismissed and we find ourselves being compelled to walk away with the masses in John 6. We are told that only the finger is important.

One such case and point where the authors of ETC believe that the Transmillennialist would be guilty of such a breach of clear, plain literal interpretation is Revelation 16:17-18 and the prediction of a "great earthquake" that would shake the land. Gordon Franz says, "Preterists do not take this prophecy literally, but rather symbolically. Why? Because they have no historical event recorded by Josephus or any Roman historian that corresponds with this prophecy… Since there was no earthquake during the events of A.D. 70 – much less a devastating quake – preterists have had to interpret the earthquake as symbolic!"10

To the authors of ETC, adherents of fulfilled prophecy are guilty of picking and choosing what passages to take literally and which ones to take figuratively or symbolically. Just by reading ETC, it might be tempting to think that the interpretive scheme offered by the dispensationalist hermeneutic is, in fact, much clearer for being so systematic. But, is that really the way it is? No, we believe the above quotations are a dramatic overstatement and oversimplification of the case.

As an example let’s take the prophecy of Zechariah 13:7, "Awake, O Sword, against my shepherd, and against the man that is my fellow, says Jehovah of hosts: smite the shepherd…"

According to the plain, literal, clear and ordinary meaning of the word "sword," how would the shepherd (Messiah) be killed? By the sword, of course. But how was the shepherd (Messiah) killed? By being nailed to a cross. Once again the idealist approach of interpreting the text as a one-to-one correlation leaves us short.

Note how ETC author Arnold Fruchtenbaum explains this: "…the word ‘sword’ is used, which is often a symbol of death. The ‘sword’ is not necessarily the manner of execution (the Messiah was not killed by means of a sword), but a symbol of a violent death. Indeed, the Messiah died a violent death, as symbolized by the sword."11

Now, let’s say that the Transmillennialist, taking the approach of the critical realist employed this same line of reasoning in explaining the Revelation 16:17-18 passage. In this we would see that the word "earthquake" was symbolic of God’s shaking of a world – such as when his voice shook the earth at the giving of the old law at Mount Sinai as affirmed in Hebrews 12:26. Remaining with the teaching of the Hebrews 12 passage, we can see that another "shaking" is about to take place. The results of which will be the removal of that old covenant system that was "being shaken" so that the kingdom they were receiving and which "could not be shaken" would remain (12:28). In other words, the accommodative language of the text is symbolic of the first century transition that was taking place from the old covenant to the new.

Just as Christ was not killed by a literal sword, so, too, the destruction of Jerusalem did not come about through a literal earthquake. However, there was a great judgment that occurred through both events… and that judgment really did fall upon that generation. It was symbolized by "sword" and "earthquake." When the critical realist approach is employed, the higher meaning may easily be seen.

The dispensationalist accepts the symbolic interpretation of the sword while simultaneously crying foul for the Transmillennialist interpretation of the earthquake – and yet, as critical realists, it is the Transmillennial interpretation that is consistent in both instances.

We’ll give an even more egregious example and then move on. In his ETC chapter entitled, "The Little Apocalypse of Zechariah," note what Fruchtenbaum does with the detailed events of Zechariah 14:12-15.

Zechariah next describes four specifics about how the enemy will be destroyed. First, their flesh will melt away (verse 12). Their eyes will suddenly begin to melt within their sockets and their skin will melt away from their bones… Second… the various nations will have disagreements amongst themselves and begin killing each other. Third, God will supernaturally energize the Jewish forces so they inflict heavy losses upon the enemy (verse 14). And fourth, God will inflict a plague upon the animals (verse 15)…the plague of melting… Whether this is to be understood as literal animals or more modern forms of travel, the conclusion is the same: the transports used by the enemy against the Jews will melt." (emphasis mine)12

This is remarkably inconsistent. The dispensationalist cannot argue repeatedly that the proper way to interpret prophetic texts is by the use of their plain, clear, literal meaning or sense of the word and then jump from "animals" to "more modern forms of travel… the transports used by the enemy against the Jews." Make no mistake: these "transports" are not animals in the dispensationalist’s array of weaponry and battlefield armament during the last great battle of Armageddon. Just read Hal Lindsey and take note of how horses change to tanks, spears are symbolic of shoulder-to-rocket missiles, etc, etc.

Such anachronisms as the upgrading of weaponry take place within the dispensational ranks without a second thought. It is at these times that one is compelled to wonder what happened to a cornerstone hermeneutic that calls for simpler interpretations based on the plain use of the word, as it is understood in everyday language. This interpretive scheme of the dispensationalist comes and goes with alarming frequency and it is examples such as the above that draw attention to their inconsistencies.

This alone does not make the dispensationalist position wrong. What it is does is point out the poverty of the dispensationalist hermeneutic in its treatment of figurative vs. literal language. Wouldn’t it be more consistent to suggest that if the destruction of Jerusalem happened in the timeframe that Jesus predicted, but did not literally coincide with the descriptive language of that prediction, that we have a compelling reason to interpret that language figuratively? On what basis does the dispensationalist insist on a literal interpretation of prophetic language while playing fast and loose with time statements?

Often it is simply a matter of thinking the argument is about content when it is really about context. Unless the cultural setting of the ministry of Jesus is adequately taken into account, the context for interpretation has been lost.

Making Judgment Calls

No matter what system of interpretation one chooses to employ, there will always be problematic passages and judgment calls that must be made. Ice acknowledges this by saying, "Consistently literal interpreters, within the framework of the grammatical-historical system, do discuss whether or not a word, or phrase, of a biblical book is a figure of speech (connotative use of language) or is to be taken literally/plainly (denotative use of language)… Some passages are quite naturally clearer than others and a consensus among interpreters develops, whereas other passages may find literal interpreters divided as to whether or not they should be understood as figures of speech."

It is helpful that Ice acknowledges that his system of interpretation is not without much debate and discussion even within the ranks of those who employ it. That is just the way it is – no matter what hermeneutical scheme we prefer. I want to make it clear that what we are against is not the right of the dispensationalist to employ symbols, metaphors, and analogies – which the dispensationalist allows for within his hermeneutic – where we take issue is when the Transmillennialist employs such things and is taken to task by the dispensationalist because we have supposedly gone against the sacred interpretive principle of remaining with the plain/literal meaning of a word or passage. What we are saying is that the dispensationalist cannot have it both ways – literal/plain meaning when it suites them – symbol, metaphor or analogy when it does not, only to turn around and deny the same to others.

Areas of Common Agreement

In getting to the bottom of how Scripture should be interpreted, there are actually many things allowed for in both the dispensational and Transmillennial methods of interpretation with which both may agree.

Both agree that Scripture employs figures of speech: simile, metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, personification, apostrophe, hyperbole, irony, allegory, parable, riddle and fable.13 Likewise it is agreed that both sides employ symbolic meaning at certain times and in certain prophetic texts and scenarios while at other times they do not.

With so much held in common, how might we possibly come to a common understanding? If so much is agreed upon in the way Scripture can and should be interpreted, what can we do to desist from taking opposite stances in the employment of the very principles we hold in agreement?

Here we stand with Ice in asking, "How is this done? It can only be accomplished through the grammatical (according to the rules of grammar), historical (consistent with the historical setting of the passage), contextual (in accord with the context) method of interpretation…."14 Had Ice ended his quote here, we would be fine. He ends, however, by stating that these things must be done within the context of the literal interpretive approach, i.e., the idealist approach demanding a one-to-one, photographic fulfillment.

I think that everybody can agree that a passage should be taken literally/plainly in the everyday sense of the word unless there is 1) grammatical reason not to, 2) historical reasons not to, or 3) contextual reasons not to.

However, the great debate will rage forever between the various millennial views until we begin to question the foundations of our epistemological approaches. The differences will remain as long as we continue to incorrectly frame the debate as being between those who interpret based on the literal/plainly versus figurative/spiritual.

The real debate is whether to predominantly view Scripture through the eyes of the critical realist or the naïve idealist. It’s all about epistemological foundations and approaches.

The frustration of reading the positions argued by the authors of ETC for dispensationalism and against proponents of fulfilled prophecy, is that over and again the issues are clouded by calling for interpretative principles that are simply in a different epistemological constellation altogether. This causes the authors of ETC to have less than lucid arguments in many areas and continues to beg for their detractors to respond in the self-same way, effectively getting us nowhere.

A Prime Example: Acts 1:11.

Under the sub-heading "The Return of Christ," LaHaye makes the following assertion:

…the angels promise in Acts 1:11: ‘This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven’ (KJV). It cannot be contested that the disciples and other believers who witnessed the ascension saw Jesus taken up into heaven in His resurrected physical body, which could eat, be touched, and talk, and in short was a ‘flesh and bone body,’ as He Himself described. The angels’ promise in Acts 1:11, then, must refer to a physical, literal return of the Savior to the earth… That this could refer to anything other than a physical, visible return of Christ to this earth seems irrefutable, especially in light of Acts 1:11.’15

Is Acts 1:11 "irrefutable" evidence that the return of Christ as taught in Scripture must be identical to his ascension and therefore ‘physical’ in appearance? And what if it doesn’t mean this? What if there are other ways to understand this text and even more, what if they lead us away from a physical understanding? What then are the ramifications?

One thing is certain: if this text does teach a physical return then the Transmillennialist has some serious thinking to do. But if it does not teach a physical return then the entirety of the literalistic futurist system finds itself standing on thin ice.

Clearly, then, much is weighing in the balance for here we find a text that strikes at the core of the entire hermeneutical method for both the Transmillennialist and the dispensationalist.

Over and again we will hear from the authors of ETC that nothing less than the plain, literal interpretation of this text will do. Additionally they are quick to point out that in their opinion, the Transmillennialist is guilty of exegetical fraud by ‘spiritualizing’ clear literal promises, an example of which would be the present one under discussion.

Is Acts 1:11 a clear affirmation of a physical return of Christ or is it not? This would seem to be a watershed passage for either group. Let’s take a look at it.

A Closer Look at Acts 1:11

For LaHaye, the phrase "in like manner" demands that the return of Christ must be identical to his ascension or it is not consistent with the plain, clear and literal demands of the language "in like manner." That is his case. Should the Transmillennialist argue otherwise, the thought goes, he or she is violating the literal and plain understanding of the text.

With so much riding on the line, perhaps we would do well to take a look at the original language, "in like manner," and find out exactly what it means before either side begins jumping to conclusions.

The phrase "in like manner" is from the Greek – hon tropon. The lexical definition of this word is, "as, even as, like as."16 This phrase is used in Scripture to indicate two types of action: first, identical form or action as in passages such as Acts 15:11 or second, comparative form or action as in 2 Timothy 3:8.17

The question of at hand now becomes, is the language of Acts 1:11 to be employed as "identical" form or action or is to be employed as "comparative" form or action? The answer from LaHaye is that it clearly must be understood as "identical." He writes, "That this could refer to anything other than a physical, visible return of Christ to this earth seems irrefutable." In other words, the argument goes, Jesus ascended physically and therefore he must return physically.

The Transmillennialist, however, best sees this language as being employed by way of "comparative" form or action. From this perspective Jesus ascended in "power and glory" and victorious over death… and his return would be the same. His return would mark the covenantal arrival of the same power and glory bestowed upon him for all of those who eagerly were awaiting his arrival "apart from sin unto salvation" (Heb. 9:28).

To keep the issues clear before us, let’s briefly summarize where we are:

1. We have learned that the phrase "in like manner" can be employed in a way other than that which is "identical" form or action.
2. We have learned that there is full agreement with Scripture that this phrase may also be used to describe that which is by way of "comparison" or "similarity."
3. Therefore we have learned that when LaHaye says that for this to "refer to anything other than a physical, visible return of Christ to this earth seems to be irrefutable" that at a minimum he is overstating his case or perhaps is even ill-informed as per the language of the text and its employment in Scripture.

At this juncture, since this language may or may not refer to identical form or action, we must turn to the context in ordering an accurate determination. In doing so we need to bring to mind the setting of the ascension. First, there are only a limited number of people who witnessed this ascension (Acts 1:6ff.). Would LaHaye have us believe that his return would be limited to this precise group of people? Hardly. An identical return would not yield the predicted results as proclaimed by Scriptures such as Revelation 1:7 and the prediction that "every eye" would see him. But there is something far more disturbing to deal with than this.

John, the disciple closest to Jesus and present at his ascension says the following: "Beloved… now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is" (1 Jn. 3:2). Here is an eyewitness to the ascension of Jesus, under the inspiration of Scripture, writing that none of them knew what they would be like at the return of Jesus, but when Jesus was revealed they would be like Him for they would see him as he is. If the return of Christ, as LaHaye claims, is identical to his ascension, then how could an eyewitness to that ascension say that they would be "like Christ" although they did not yet know what his returning identity would be like? If John were to interpret Acts 1:11 the way LaHaye demands it be interpreted, then he would know exactly what Jesus would be like. But clearly John does not see it this way.

We can sum this up in the following equation:

1. John did not yet know what our identity and appearance would be at the return of Christ.
2. But when he did return, he said that our appearance would be like Christ’s appearance and identity.
3. Therefore, John did not yet know the returning identity of Christ.

However…

1. John did not yet know the returning identity of Christ.
2. But John did know the departing and ascending appearance and identity of Christ.
3. Therefore, the departing and ascending identity of Christ and His returning identity and appearance are not the same.18

Clearly Acts 1:11 cannot meet the demands imposed (and presupposed) upon it by LaHaye and the dispensationalist camp. By forcing a rigid literalism upon this text and making the return of Christ be identical to his ascension, contradictions abound. Acts 1:11 cannot be used in any way other than that of "comparative form or action."

The Covenantal Setting of Acts 1:11

There is a way to harmonize passages such as Acts 1:11 and 1 John 3:2 without any apparent contradiction. But to do so, we have to remain true to the covenantal setting of Scripture.19

Taking on the sin of the world, Jesus arose victorious as a sign of his defeat of sin and the death and the separation from God that it brought. As Paul tells us, this was the purpose of Christ’s death: "The death that he died, he died to sin, once for all…" (Rom. 6:10). This "once for all" is the same "once for all" of Hebrews 9.

His ascension was unique proof that he had obtained something never before attained. As John said, "No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man" (Jn. 3:13). Jesus alone, with his blood, accomplished this feat. Again, sticking with the context of Hebrews 9, those who were eagerly awaiting his return, the return of the High Priest from the most Holy place, were anticipating their joining with him in the self-same salvation that would be realized at his coming.

Though "sealed" (Eph. 1:13,14), they did not yet have this salvation in its fullness at the ascension of Christ in Acts 1:11 nor had it yet been realized within them at the writing of 1 John 3:2. This redemption would not arrive apart from the destruction of the old city Jerusalem (Lk. 21:28) at which time the New Jerusalem (covenant) would arrive (Gal. 4:21ff).

It is here that the dispensationalist cries ‘foul’ and claims that the Transmillennialist is ‘spiritualizing’ the meaning of the text and ignoring the ‘plain literal meaning’ of the passage by opting for a more symbolic or figurative one. But a couple of things are in order here. One, to suggest that the language used to describe something is figurative does not mean that the thing described this way ceases to be real. Second, it is of more than little interest that the very word under discussion (tropon) carries this descriptive with it in the Shorter Lexicon of the Greek New Testament by Gingrich and Danker (p. 202): "Tropology, [is a] figurative mode of speech or writing."

Not only is it consistent to take the figurative interpretation of the Transmillennialist regarding Acts 1:11, the word itself is the root word for a "figurative mode of speech or writing." And yet LaHaye expresses amazement that the text could even be considered in a figurative (critical realist) light.

The conclusion seems apparent. The view that is least likely to work with the Acts 1:11 text is the idealist (literalist/photo/one-to-one ratio) view of the dispensationalist. That view is contradictory with other Scripture and causes the writer to be incoherent at best or, worst case, wrong.

Conclusion

The shift from idealist interpretive schemes to critical realist interpretations is becoming more and more prominent within today’s theological landscape – particularly among the younger evangelicals. Seeing this as a move toward liberalism, many opposing evangelicals have been forced to move even further into a more idealist epistemology absolutizing ‘ideas’ over ‘historical realities.’

The result has been for idealists to stress a more literal nature of fulfillment (the photograph/one-to-one ratio) and see those who hold to the critical realist approach to be in error. In response, critical realists stress that they agree on much of the same content (such as the ‘events’ of the second coming, resurrection, kingdom, judgment), choosing to see them more as a map pointing to higher truths.

The chasm is further widened as idealists stress the emphasis of having systematic theologies while realists emphasize specific cultural situations. Thus, idealists approach Scripture from a systematic point of view while realists approach it from the metanarratives of story and culture, thus placing greater emphasis upon biblical theologies.

All of this causes the idealist to accuse the realist of uncertainty and a notion of being vague. Realists retort that the idealist is forfeiting necessary cultural and historical considerations in the name of being consistent with their bent on systematizing all things.

Because the idealist sees the basis of unity on agreement, he is often polemical in his speech, attacking those with whom he disagrees.

In conclusion we again turn to Heibert to emphasize our point: "An understanding of the various epistemological positions can untangle some of the current debates among evangelicals, debates that often lead to confusion rather than clarity. We must distinguish between debates over the epistemological foundations of theology and those over the content of theology…when an idealist and a critical realist disagree; confusion sets in because one is playing chess and the other playing checkers on the same board."20

In the first century, the audience of Jesus, in all of their idealist interpretive ways, was often found playing checkers. Perhaps in the twenty-first century we will begin to advance to the game of chess.

TIM KING is president of Presence Ministries and editor of Living Presence Journal. He and his family live in Colorado Springs, Colorado. This article first appeared in the Winter 2004 issue of the Journal.

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