The Deity of Christ in the Gospel of Matthew - Part 2

KingsServant | 22nd December 2022 | Apologetics

The titles “Jehovah” and “God” given to Jesus in Matthew 1 This is a guest post by “KingsServant”, see Part 2 here. In this series of articles, I want to present the case that Matthew teaches Jesus is God, from the arguments I made in 2 moderated debates with a Muslim apologist, Mohammed Abd al Razack, commonly known as Al Yemeni. Although I will be going into far more detail, not having to deal with the tight time controls of a debate format. The moderated debate on YouTube with me (KingsServant)   Matthew’s teaching of the Trinity and in particular that Jesus is God is by no means limited to the baptismal formula given by Christ after his resurrection in Matthew 28:19 a text of which the authenticity is often questioned despite not being in doubt. A sound assessment of what Matthew teaches about his main subject “Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1), should begin by observing the structure of the book, specifically the way that Matthew chooses to begin and end his Gospel. Matthew, quite reasonably, begins his account of the life of Jesus by describing the circumstances of his birth (1:18). We are told that before having relations with Joseph to whom she was betrothed, Mary was found to be pregnant, Matthew tells us this was through the Holy Spirit, although this, of course, was unknown to Joseph, her husband to be. Certain questions arise immediately. First, we may note that Jesus being the Son of God in a unique sense (only-begotten) cannot be the result of his conception as a human by Mary as it is the Holy Spirit who begat Jesus as a man, rather than the Father. The Father is never identified as the Spirit and in 28:19 the Father, Son and Spirit are distinguished from each other. Since the Spirit is not the Father, but rather the Father is a distinct person from the Spirit, we can conclude that both the fatherhood of the Father and the sonship of the Son are not the result of his human conception. The second question is why is the virgin birth by Mary of a child begotten by the Holy Spirit necessary? What is the purpose of this? Challenging questions for an anti-trinitarian who wants to maintain that Jesus is a mere man to answer. But neither do we have to speculate about it because the answer is given in the text in short notice. Matthew 1:21“She will give birth to a Son; and you shall name Him Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.” The angel insists that the son to be born must be named Jesus which means either “Jehovah saves” or “Jehovah is Salvation”, a common name at the time, as we know from others in the New Testament who share this name (Matthew 27:16 variant reading, Acts 13:6, Colossians 4:11, Luke 3:29), the same name of the successor of Moses. There’s nothing shocking about the name itself, but a hugely significant point is the reason why the angel says that he must be given this particular name. “for He will save His people from their sins.” He is called Jesus – meaning Jehovah saves because he (that is Jesus) will save his (Jesus’) people from their sins. There can be no dispute that the word “he” at the beginning of this phrase is referring to the child, Jesus. The phrase in Greek[1]  includes the word “he” which is actually grammatically unnecessary and as a result can only have been included by the author to highlight that the child is to be given this name (Jehovah is salvation) because he himself is going to be doing the saving. As if this is not enough, the word is not only included but also placed in the emphatic position at the beginning of the phrase. In Greek, the word to be emphasised is placed at the beginning. Beyond all doubt, the angel is identifying Jesus himself as Jehovah who saves! Further, the Old Testament states that it is Jehovah who will save Israel from their sins, Israel being the group most naturally understood to be “his people” in verse 21 contextually (in both histo...

Guest Author | 31st July 2026 | Prayer

Guest Post By Fiach OBroin-Molloy My own roots lie in the Catholic tradition, but my workbench has brought me into contact with Christians whose devotional lives differ from mine. I make Catholic rosaries, Anglican prayer beads and other forms of devotional beads by hand. That work has not taught me that distinctions between traditions do not matter. It has taught me that, beneath those distinctions, many of us know the same difficulty: we want to pray, but our attention is restless. I have travelled, lived and worked in a number of countries, from parts of Africa to countries further east. Again and again, I encountered beads or knotted cords held, counted or carried in prayer. The words, beliefs and purposes were not the same, and I would not flatten them into one vague spirituality. What stayed with me was the recurring human instinct to give devotion rhythm and weight—to let the body help the mind and heart remain present. For a Christian, however, that instinct is gathered into a particular faith—the faith confessed in the creeds. Our prayer is addressed to the God made known as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It is shaped by Scripture and centred on Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, crucified and risen. Prayer beads do not broaden that confession into something less definite. At their best, they help us stay with it. A faith that takes flesh seriously Christian prayer is never only an activity of the mind. We speak and sing. We stand, kneel and bow. We fold our hands, make the sign of the cross, and receive bread and wine. The Christian faith does not ask us to escape being embodied creatures. At its centre is the astonishing declaration that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). Material things are not God, but they can serve our attention to God. That is the modest place in which I understand prayer beads. They do not create faith, improve the words of Scripture or make prayer more sincere. They simply give the hands something quiet to do while the heart and mind try to remain present. As a maker, I think about weight, texture, spacing and movement. A bead should pass naturally beneath the thumb. The cord or chain should be strong enough to be returned to repeatedly. A good set of prayer beads should not continually demand admiration for itself. Its purpose is to become quiet in the hand. Over time, beads polish, wood darkens and metal takes on the small marks of use. I rarely know the prayers that have been said with something I have made, but sometimes its wear tells me that it has been held often. That is a different kind of beauty from newness: not decoration, but evidence of return. What the hands bring to Scripture Lectio Divina invites us to read Scripture slowly and receptively. Luke J. Wilson has written much more fully about its four movements—reading, meditation, prayer and contemplation—and I would not try to redefine that teaching here. What interests me as a maker is the point at which a reader’s hand might support that attention. Most of us have become highly practised at moving quickly through words. We skim messages, headlines and pages, often looking for the next piece of information before we have received the one in front of us. Sacred reading asks something different. It asks us to stay. A bead introduces a small resistance to speed. It marks a pause and gives us somewhere to return when the mind has already hurried ahead. The Anglican prayer beads I make contain a cross, an invitatory bead, four cruciform beads and four groups of seven, often called weeks. I know that structure first through the work of my hands, not because I would presume to tell Anglicans how they ought to pray. What strikes me about it is its spaciousness: there are landmarks, passages and repeated opportunities to return to the cross. One possible practice would be to choose a short passage from the Gospels. At the cross, the reader might remember that Christ is the centre of the reading. ...

Darwin to Jesus | 16th April 2025 | Atheism

Guest post by Darwin to Jesus Dostoevsky famously said, “If there is no God, then everything is permitted.” For years, as an atheist, I couldn’t understand what he meant, but now I do… Here’s a simple analogy that shows why only theism can make sense of morality: Imagine you just got hired at a company. You show up, set up your desk, and decide to use two large monitors. No big deal, right? But then some random guy walks up to you and says: “Hey, you’re not allowed to do that.” You ask, “What do you mean?” They say, “You’re not permitted* to use monitors that big.” In this situation, the correct response would be: “Says who?” We’ll now explore the different kinds of answers you might hear — each one representing a popular moral theory without God — and why none of them actually work. Subjective Morality The random guy says, “Well, I personally just happen to not like big monitors. I find them annoying.” Notice that’s not a reason for you to change your setup. Their personal preferences don’t impose obligations on you. This is what subjective morality looks like. It reduces morality to private taste. If this were the answer, you’d be correct to ignore this person and get back to work — big monitors are still permitted. Cultural Relativism Instead, they say, “It’s not just me — most people here don’t use big monitors. It’s not our culture.” That’s cultural relativism: right and wrong are just social customs, what is normal behavior. But notice customs aren’t obligations. If the culture were different, the moral rule would be different, which means it isn’t really moral at all. You might not fit in. You might not be liked. But you’re still permitted to use big monitors. Emotivism Here after being asked “says who?” the person just blurts out, “Boo, big monitors!” You reply, “Hurrah, big monitors!” That’s the entire conversation. This is emotivism. On this moral theory when we talk about right and wrong we’re actually just expressing our personal feelings towards actions, I boo rape, you hurrah rape. But shouting “boo!” at someone doesn’t create real obligations. You’re still permitted to use large monitors. Utilitarianism Here, the person says, “Your big monitors lower the overall productivity of the office. You’re not permitted to use them because they lead to worse consequences.” This is utilitarianism: morality is based on producing the greatest happiness for the greatest number. But even if that’s true — so what? Who says you’re obligated to maximize group productivity? And what if your monitors actually help you work better? Utilitarianism might tell you what leads to better outcomes, but it doesn’t tell you why you’re morally obligated to follow that path — especially if it comes at your own expense. You’re still permitted to use large monitors. Virtue Ethics Here they say, “Using big monitors just doesn’t reflect the virtues we admire here — simplicity, humility, restraint.” This is virtue ethics. Morality is about becoming the right kind of person. But who defines those virtues? And why are you obligated to follow them? What if your idea of a virtuous worker includes productivity and confidence? Without a transcendent standard, virtues are just cultural preferences dressed up in moral language. If you don’t care about virtue or their arbitrary standards, then you have no obligation. You’re still permitted to use large monitors. Atheist Moral Realism But what if they say, “Listen, there’s a rule. It’s always been here. It says you can’t use monitors that large.” You ask, “Who made the rule?” They say, “No one.” You ask, “Who owns this company?” They say, “No one owns it. The company just exists.” You look around and ask, “Where is the rule?” They say, “You won’t find it w...

KingsServant | 12th March 2025 | Islam

This is a guest post by “KingsServant” In 2019 a book called Defying Jihad was published by Tyndale House, the reputable Christian publisher telling the story of “Esther Ahmad” a pseudonym used by the author alongside her co-author Craig Borlase, who has previously written alongside, well known Christian personalities such as Matt Redman the singer and Andrew Brunson, an American pastor imprisoned by the Turkish government. As I began to read this book over this past year I was expecting an encouraging account of how a former Jihadi found Christ and escaped her previous accomplices. Very quickly, however, I became uncomfortable, her descriptions of her background involved allegedly committed Muslims doing very un-Islamic things and the unnamed militant group doing unusual things that didn’t fit my knowledge gained from years of study of Islam and interactions with Muslims, including extremists. As my doubts about the authenticity of the book solidified, and yet I couldn’t find anyone else who had questioned these things before me, or on the other hand provided verification of her story. I decided to contact Craig. During our brief and cordial email exchange he told me that he had been in touch with people who knew Esther after she escaped her family home, but so far has not suggested he has any other lines of evidence confirming any of the key elements of her account before that time. As a result, I am writing this article to draw attention to the aspects that raise suspicion. According to “Esther’s” story, she was raised in Pakistan where she was sent to an extremist madrassa (or Muslim school) for girls, there they were shown images of victims of violence and told that Christians and Jews were responsible - the emphasis on Jews and particularly Christians by a militant group based in Pakistan is strange. All the terrorist groups in Pakistan direct their efforts towards Hindus (especially in Kashmir) or other Muslims, since Christians are such a tiny minority there. Things rapidly become even stranger when a Mullah displays weapons to the group of girls telling them “… one day you will get to handle these” as the book continues describing them being encouraged to aspire to physical violence towards Jews and Christians specifically, the description of “Aunt Selma” volunteering for and dying fighting Jihad is likewise out of place. Islamic terrorist groups very rarely recruit women for combat roles, as Devorah Margolin describes Hamas and ISIS as departing from convention by encouraging female participation in violence and even then in only a very restricted way under particular circumstances with a specific fatwa (or Islamic ruling) being issued.1 On page 33, the militant group leader “Anwar” suggests that Esther could find a husband in the west to bring him to Islam. It is strictly forbidden for a Muslim woman to marry a non Muslim man, the idea that they would be encouraged by a scholar to date is about as unbelievable. In a conservative Pakistani culture, she would more likely find herself the victim of a so-called “honour killing” for such a thing.2 After her initial chance encounters with her future husband “John” (not as a result of trying to follow “Anwar’s” advice), on page 92 it is recorded that he said to her “… I’m not against your faith and beliefs…”, it’s the kind of thing that we might expect a liberal in the west to say, but not a Pakistani believer who knows that Islam denies that Jesus is the Son of God and that he died for sinners. Following her conversion according to her account, she engaged in a number of public debates with clerics in which she defended her decision to leave Islam and follow Christ. It is not uncommon for apostates to have meetings with scholars arranged by their family members in the hope that they might be won back to Islam, but it is very surprising that her influential father would want to give his apostate daughter su...

Charles Meek | 02nd December 2024 | Eschatology

This is a guest post from Charles Meek Hal Lindsey’s bookThe Late Great Planet Earth Hal Lindsey’s book The Late Great Planet Earth, first edition in 1970, sold over 40 million copies. Gullible Christians got sucked into Lindsey’s soon-end-of-the-world cult-like poppycock. As time has passed without his version of Armageddon taking place, we can now objectively analyze where Lindsey went wrong: Lindsey (p. 54, 181), like other dispensationalists, placed the beginning of the end with Israel becoming a nation in 1948. He thought all prophecy would be fulfilled within a 40-year generation (Matthew 24:34). But 1988 came and went, proving him to be a false prophet. (This should be adequate proof that 1948 has nothing to do with Bible prophecy.) Lindsey (p. 44) prophesied a 7-year, world-wide, tribulation. He got this from Revelation 11 which speaks of the “holy city” being trampled for 42 months — and “two witnesses prophesying” for 1,260 days. He simply adds both of these 3 ½-year periods together to get 7 years (of tribulation). There is NO indication in the text that this is a valid interpretation. He was reading something speculative into the text that is not there. Indeed, there is no passage in the Bible that clearly teaches a 7-year tribulation. Further, Jesus limited the time of the trampling of Jerusalem to his own generation (Luke 21:20–22, 32). Interestingly, the final assault on Jerusalem by the Roman army under Titus lasted 42 months from February AD 67 to August AD 70. This is strong supporting evidence for the Great Tribulation being fulfilled at the Jewish-Roman War ending with the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70.) Lindsey (p. 87, etc.) saw the existence of nuclear weapons as an important sign of the end times. However, Jesus taught that the so-called “end times” would be when God’s people would “fall by the edge of the sword” (Luke 21:24). Jesus’ prophecies were about ancient warfare, not modern nuclear weapons. The context of this prophecy by Jesus was about the coming destruction of the temple (Luke 21:6). Jesus told his listeners that it would happen when THEY saw Jerusalem surrounded by armies (Luke 21:20), in THEIR generation (Luke 21:32). This all happened when the Roman armies invaded Jerusalem in AD 67–70. Lindsey (p. 56–57) said, “It is certain that the Temple will be rebuilt. Prophecy demands it.” Problem is, not a single verse of the Bible can be mustered to support a future rebuilding of the temple. This idea is merely an invention of dispensationalists to try to justify their theory. Lindsey (p. 88, 124) even makes this astounding prediction: “The prophetic Scriptures tell us that the Roman Empire will be revived shortly before the return of Christ to this earth. A new Caesar will head this empire.” It’s hard to believe anyone took this charlatan Lindsey seriously. Lindsey (p. 108), in speaking of the Antichrist, “He will have a magnetic personality, be personally attractive, and a powerful speaker. He will be able to mesmerize an audience with his oratory.” But the Antichrist is never mentioned in Revelation, let alone any such description of him. The Antichrist is only mentioned in John’s epistles, which say that the Antichrist was already in the world when John was writing (1 John 4:3). Indeed, John taught that it was already the “last hour” as he wrote (1 John 2:18). If you believe John was an inspired writer, this precludes any future fulfillment. Lindsey (p. 125, 126) said that modern drug addiction and witchcraft is evidence of the “sorceries” of Revelation 9:21. He quoted a TV station that “Nearly every respectable high school these days has its own witch.” (Besides the obvious problem of nonsense, Revelation itself teaches that it is about things that MUST SHORTLY TAKE PLACE (Revelation 1:1; 22:6). Indeed, there are over 30 passages in Revelation that reiterate that its fulfillment was “near,” “soon,” or ...