However knowledgeable you may become by reading Buddha or compassionate after following Gandhi, you will never find forgiveness in anyone else other than Christ alone.
Approximately halfway through the first chapter of Colossians, the apostle Paul seems to explode into a rousing anthem, exulting the Christ of God (Col. 1:15–20). I can scarcely imagine any library of books being able to exhaust the depth of wisdom and majesty contained in these verses. What follows, therefore, is by no means exhaustive, but hopefully, it provides some much-needed clarity on why the apostle felt compelled to include these particular remarks at this particular juncture of his epistle. While it might appear to come out of nowhere, this paragraph is not an impromptu rabbit trail concerning Christ. Instead, these stanzas adoring the Christ of God are perfectly suited to address the problems that the Colossians were facing.
A little context about the Colossian crisis
The issue at the heart of the Colossian letter was that of “syncretism,” which could be understood as the forced fusion of different religious traditions and beliefs into a new faith. Advocates said that “true spirituality” came not only from Christ but also from other channels of religious experience. Therefore, those seeking a higher spiritual existence were beckoned to this, that, or the other thing or pay homage to this, that, or the other deity. In the case of the Colossians, this likely meant regular patronage at the local temple of Zeus. Due to recent archaeological findings, it is supposed that Zeus “was potentially,” according to James R. McConnell, “understood by some to be the patron deity of Colossae” (401). This is pertinent since it helps us understand why Paul would put such an emphasis on Christ at this point in his letter. In fact, Christ’s apostle is likely intentionally aping the musical milieu of the god of thunder.
When all is said and done, not even the god of thunder can hold a candle when compared to Christ the Light of the World. He is unrivaled and unequaled.
Zeus had countless songs and poems written about him or dedicated to him, many of which were likely familiar to the Colossians. For example, one hymn extols Zeus like this: “Zeus was the first, Zeus last, the lightning’s lord, / Zeus head, Zeus centre, all things are from Zeus” (Eusebius, 1:109). The undue veneration of Zeus is, perhaps, partly what moved Paul to somewhat mimic those old poems even as he exceeds and outshines them. His “Song to Christ” is a masterclass of theology and literature, as he summons the Colossians to recall familiar Zeus-oriented tunes only to turn them on their heads by making Jesus of Nazareth the absolute center of them all. When all is said and done, not even the god of thunder can hold a candle when compared to Christ the Light of the World. He is unrivaled and unequaled.
To syncretize Christ and Zeus is not only wrong, it’s to deface and detract from Christ himself. By entertaining or accepting the doctrines of Zeus or any other supposed deity alongside the doctrines of the apostles, the Colossians were tarnishing the name of Jesus. The “syncretistic idea” that the Christian gospel needs to be supplemented either by works of adherence or abstinence (Col. 2:21) effectively leads one to sneer at the supremacy and sufficiency of Christ. Paul’s emphatic Christology, therefore, expresses what he longs for the Colossians (and us) to know — namely, who Christ is, what he has done, and what he’s capable of. In so doing, they will be enthralled by what the gospel gives, which is none other than Christ himself.
A lesson about Christ’s identity
Paul wastes no time affirming what is foundational to our faith: that Jesus Christ is God. “He is the image of the invisible God,” he writes, “the firstborn of all creation” (Col. 1:15). Christ, we could say, is the eikōn or the “exact likeness” of who God is. Or, as the anonymous writer of Hebrews puts it, “He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature” (Heb. 1:3). Like a die that is pressed into a mold, all divinity was pressed upon humanity in the person of Christ. The marvelous mystery at the heart of what it means to be a Christian is that Jesus was both God and Man. Indeed, there is no “Christianity” without the confession that Christ is God (1 Tim. 3:16).
It is little wonder that this confession has been the locus of much theological and philosophical debate throughout the ages. Time precludes me from digressing too long on this point, but suffice it to say that the identity of Jesus of Nazareth remains a constant point of division. According to the 2022 State of Theology survey, we are verging on half of the evangelical sector in the United States consenting that “Jesus was a great teacher, but he was not God.” As troublesome as this sounds, it’s even more problematic that a majority of individuals want to endorse Jesus’s teachings without affirming the very reason he showed up in the first place, which, as St. John says, was to make the Father known (John 1:18). “The God who dwells in the thick darkness, remote from sense and above thought,” Alexander Maclaren explains, “has come forth and made Himself known to man, even in a very real way has come within the reach of man’s senses, in the manhood of Jesus Christ” (72).
Although it is true that there are no references where Jesus explicitly says, “I am God,” one is forced to jump through dozens of flaming hoops while also turning the Bible into a pretzel to say, “Jesus never claimed to be God,” especially when you consider what the Lord actually said. For example: “Before Abraham was, I am” (John 8:58). “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30). “Whoever sees me sees him who sent me” (John 12:45). “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9), and so it goes. If after reading Scripture, your takeaway is “Jesus was a great teacher, but he was not God,” you’ve failed to actually read it. After all, the resonance of what God’s Word offers has nothing to do with its morals or its spiritual disciplines. Rather, it has everything to do with Christ’s identity. He is no Galilean guru or heaven-sent philanthropist. He is God enfleshed.
A lesson about Christ’s authority
Christ’s identity as the Son of God gives us a glimpse at the extent of his authority, as Paul proceeds to avow (Col. 1:16–18). Despite the doctrinal complexity of these verses, the apostle’s point seems to be maintaining Christ’s ranks as the high authority and preeminent head over all things. “The absoluteness of the God-man’s supremacy,” R. C. H. Lenski says, “is here expressed in all its absoluteness” (57). Nothing and no one can even sniff at Christ’s universal jurisprudence. Everything is subject to him since he is the one who created it all. He was there when the worlds were formed, and the stars were set into motion, and even still, he “upholds the universe by the word of his power” (Heb. 1:3). Through Christ, everything came into being, and by Christ, everything continues to subsist (John 1:1–3). He is the hub to which all the spokes of creation find their genesis, sustenance, and mooring.
This is more than mere dogmatic flair. This is the good news. This is hope. This is life. The unparalleled authority of Christ was on display throughout his entire earthly career. From calming storms to healing cripples to giving the blind their sight back, even Satan’s cronies became skittish in his very presence (Mark 1:21–28). This is because when Jesus of Nazareth approaches anyone who is ailing, crippled, sick, or possessed by “unclean spirits,” it is not as though a superheroic archangel or guru with wisdom from on high has arrived. Rather, when Christ arrives, it is God himself stepping out of eternity and into time to bring about deliverance. The one who is “before all things” humbles himself to dwell among us and, more than that, to die for us. Christ’s ability to justify the ungodly is inextricably tethered to his authority as the one by whom “all things hold together.”
A lesson about Christ’s activity
As daunting as Paul’s Christological anthem might sound, each of its stanzas contains fundamental material in order for there to be anything called “the good news” at all. We are only here because of what has been done for us and who did it. The gospel is “the gospel” precisely because Christ is “the image of the invisible God,” the preeminent head of all things, and the one in whom “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” (Col. 1:19). He is not “like God,” he is God with us. The full measure of who God is comes to abide with us in the person of Jesus so that “through him” he might “reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross” (Col. 1:20). The telos of Christ’s identity and authority is reconciliatory.
Because of the intrusion of sin, the whole creation is racked, ruined, and spoiled. Since we who inhabit this tainted world are similarly marred by sin, we are incapable of fixing anything. God in Christ, therefore, shows up to fix it all by himself. He is the means by which and through which “all things,” including you, are reconciled and restored. What the Bible ultimately reveals is a God who takes all the initiative to meet the world’s need for redemption on his own. God’s Word isn’t a manual by which we are called to “find God.” Rather, it is a book of revelation wherein we are told that God has found us. He has come to us and made himself known through the person of his Son. What’s more, he has come to shoulder all the work of “making peace” for us by offering up his own self in our stead on the cross.
Christ’s identity as God incarnate tells us that he also possesses the authority to forgive us (cf. Mark 2:1-12). Because of who he is, sinners are brought to salvation. “If Christ is the supreme Lord of all on whom all other heavenly powers depend,” R. C. Lucas attests, “then he cannot require assistance from any of these dependent authorities in order to bring God to people and people to God. He is a sufficient Saviour because he is a supreme Lord” (46). For all the activity of those other “self-made religions,” they have no capacity for forgiveness because they are all tethered to prophets or luminaries with lesser and, indeed, inferior identities. It is the identity of Christ as the Son of God that informs us not only of his authority but also his activity on our behalf, by which he redeems and rescues, pulling us out of eternal condemnation and into the light of his righteousness in which we stand (Rom. 5:1; 1 Cor. 15:1), freely and forever.
No other religion, ideology, philosophy, or system of spirituality has the ability to offer you what the gospel offers you. Nothing else can give you the gift of forgiveness precisely because nothing else has a Living God and infinite sacrifice attached to it. Every other religion, ideology, or philosophy can offer you little else than the intuition or insight of dead prophets or mythical teachers. However knowledgeable you may become by reading Buddha or compassionate after following Gandhi, you will never find forgiveness in anyone else other than Christ alone. The hope of peace and reconciliation with God isn’t found in any tenured professor, imagined deity, or high-profile politician. No matter how highly regarded or celebrated they may be, our confidence as those who belong to Christ is in the Christ of God alone, the one who is before all things, who sustains all things, and who reconciles all things to himself by his own blood, which he poured out for us on the cross.
