This final part brings the series to its conclusion by examining covenant judgment, the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD, and what it means to live within a fully realized new covenant. Rather than future speculation, the focus here is on fulfillment, clarity, and Christian maturity.
As noted in Part II, dispensational theology maintains that
Israel and the Church constitute two distinct peoples of God. Although both are
said to enjoy a special relationship with God, they are understood to remain
permanently separate. This raises several foundational questions: Are Israel
and the Church truly distinct entities? If so, when and how did this separation
occur? Does God therefore deal with them independently and according to
separate redemptive timelines? Finally, what does the historical and biblical
record indicate regarding these claims?
This third section examines the dispensational assertion of
“two peoples of God,” tracing its historical origins, evaluating its exegetical
foundations, and assessing its coherence within the broader biblical narrative.
The sharp distinction between Israel and the Church is not a
doctrine inherited from the early or medieval church, but rather one that
emerged in the nineteenth century through the work of John Nelson Darby. Darby
developed this framework following what his contemporaries described as a
period of intense theological reorientation during his recovery from a riding
accident in 1827. During this time, Darby concluded that the “kingdom”
described in Isaiah and other Old Testament texts was categorically different
from the Christian church.1
Darby argued that Old Testament prophecies concerning Israel
should not be interpreted typologically or ecclesiologically, but rather as
literal predictions concerning ethnic Israel alone. Correspondingly, the
Church—unknown and unrevealed in the Old Testament—was said to be a New
Testament phenomenon whose destiny was wholly distinct from Israel’s. This
hermeneutical move became foundational to dispensational theology.2
As Darby himself maintained, the separation between Israel
and the Church functioned as the decisive interpretive hinge upon which the
understanding of Scripture turned. Later dispensational writers echoed this
claim, emphasizing that God’s purposes in history were not unified but bifurcated:
one oriented toward national Israel with earthly promises, and the other toward
the Gentile Church with heavenly promises.3
Within this framework, the Church is frequently described as
a temporary “parenthesis” in God’s redemptive plan—a pause in prophetic history
initiated by Israel’s rejection of the Messiah and destined to end at the
rapture, after which God would resume his dealings with Israel.4 This construction
effectively subordinates the Church to Israel, positioning it as an interim
phenomenon rather than the culmination of God’s covenantal purposes.
It is within this dispensational framework that the term
“replacement theology” emerged. Dispensationalists often apply this label to
theological traditions that reject the Israel–Church dichotomy, suggesting that
such views improperly assert that the Church has supplanted Israel in God’s
plan. The term itself is polemical and misleading, as it assumes precisely the
separation that is under dispute. Historically, the Church did not understand
itself as “replacing” Israel, but rather as constituting the faithful
continuation and fulfillment of Israel’s covenantal vocation in Christ.5
The Gospels consistently portray Jesus proclaiming the
Kingdom of God (or Kingdom of Heaven) as the central theme of his ministry. He
also speaks of Israel, of judgment, and of his ekklēsia. The Greek term
ekklēsia, commonly translated “church,” denotes an assembly or gathered people
and is not unique to the New Testament. In the Septuagint, it frequently refers
to the assembly of Israel itself.6
Dispensational theology contends that the Church began only
after Israel’s rejection of Jesus, functioning as a temporary interruption in
prophetic history. Yet the Gospels present a different picture. Jesus speaks
explicitly of building his ekklēsia prior to his crucifixion (Matt. 16:18), and
he inaugurates the New Covenant at Passover—before his rejection by the nation.
The New Covenant is thus not a post-Israel contingency plan but the fulfillment
of Israel’s own covenantal trajectory.7
Hebrews 8:7–13 explicitly describes the New Covenant as
rendering the former covenant obsolete, not by negating God’s promises but by
fulfilling them in Christ. The text addresses Israel and Judah directly,
framing the New Covenant as the divinely intended resolution of covenantal
failure, not as the establishment of a separate people.
The book of Acts provides no evidence for the dispensational
notion of a prophetic pause. Following his resurrection, Jesus instructs his
disciples concerning the Kingdom of God (Acts 1:3). When they inquire about the
restoration of the kingdom to Israel, Jesus redirects their expectations—not
toward a deferred national restoration, but toward a Spirit-empowered mission
extending from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth.
Pentecost further reinforces this trajectory. The initial
outpouring of the Spirit occurs among Jews gathered from many nations,
signalling not the birth of a new religious entity detached from Israel, but
the renewal and expansion of Israel’s mission to bless the nations. Gentile
inclusion follows soon thereafter, most notably in the conversion of Cornelius
(Acts 10), where Peter explicitly affirms that God shows no partiality and
accepts those from every nation who fear him.
Throughout the apostolic period, the early Christian
movement was understood as a Jewish sect—“the Way”—rather than a separate
religion. Internal conflicts arose not over whether Gentiles could belong to a
different people of God, but over how Gentiles were to be included within the
same covenant community. The Jerusalem Council (Acts 15) resolved this tension
by affirming Gentile inclusion apart from full adherence to Mosaic law, thereby
preserving unity rather than institutionalizing division.
Paul’s letters consistently reinforce this vision. Faith,
not ethnicity, defines covenant membership. Those who belong to Christ—Jew or
Gentile—are Abraham’s offspring and heirs according to promise (Gal. 3:26–29).
Paul’s discussion of the “mystery” in Ephesians 3 does not introduce a second
people of God, but rather reveals that Gentiles are now fellow heirs within the
same body.8
The New Testament’s use of ekklēsia deliberately echoes Old
Testament covenant language. Acts 7:38 explicitly refers to Israel in the
wilderness as the ekklēsia, underscoring continuity rather than rupture. Jesus’
declaration that he would build his ekklēsia would thus have been intelligible
to his Jewish audience as a covenantal renewal, not the creation of a novel
institution.9
Israel’s election was never an end in itself. From Genesis
onward, Israel is chosen for a purpose: to mediate God’s blessing to the
nations. The Abrahamic promise explicitly envisions the inclusion of “all the
families of the earth,” and the prophetic literature consistently affirms
Israel’s vocation as a light to the nations—a calling ultimately fulfilled in
the Messiah.10
The Mosaic covenant was explicitly conditional, with
blessings for obedience and curses for disobedience. Scripture records that
Israel experienced both. The climactic judgment of the first
century—culminating in the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple in AD
70—occurred precisely as Jesus had foretold and within the covenantal framework
articulated in Deuteronomy and Leviticus.11
The modern
State of Israel emerged from secular political Zionism rather than covenantal
repentance or obedience. While the name “Israel” carries profound biblical
resonance, nomenclature alone does not confer theological identity. The
biblical category of “Israel” has always been covenantal and faith-defined, not
merely ethnic or political (Rom. 9:6).12
“Chosen People,” Covenant, and the Origins of Israel
Following the flood narrative, Scripture presents humanity
reduced to a single surviving family. Noah and his sons are commissioned to “be
fruitful and increase in number and fill the earth” (Gen. 9:1–3). This mandate
echoes the original creation blessing and establishes a universal human
vocation rather than a narrowly ethnic one. The genealogies of Genesis
10—commonly referred to as the “Table of Nations”—trace the spread of humanity
through Noah’s three sons and frame the emergence of the nations as the
fulfillment of this divine command.13
Genesis 11 records a disruption of this mandate in the
account of the Tower of Babel. Rather than dispersing across the earth,
humanity settles in Shinar and seeks to establish permanence and renown: “Let
us build ourselves a city… otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the
whole earth” (Gen. 11:4). The construction of a ziggurat suggests not merely
urban consolidation but religious defection. Joshua later confirms that
Abraham’s ancestors “worshiped other gods” beyond the Euphrates (Josh. 24:2).14
In response to this disobedience, God confuses human
language and scatters the nations. Deuteronomy 32:7–9 (“The Song of Moses”)
reflects on this event theologically, portraying the division of the nations as
occurring “according to the number of the sons of God,” while identifying
Israel—“Jacob his allotted heritage”—as the Lord’s own portion. This text
frames Israel’s election not as favoritism, but as a strategic redemptive
response to the fragmentation of the nations.15
Against this backdrop, Genesis 12 introduces God’s covenant
with Abram. The initial command is simple but decisive: “Go.” Abram’s obedience
initiates a covenantal relationship characterized by promise and purpose. The
covenant unfolds further in Genesis 15, where Abram’s belief in God’s promise
of offspring “as numerous as the stars” is credited to him as righteousness.
The land promise is solemnized through a covenant ceremony in which God commits
himself to Abram’s descendants.
Genesis 17 expands the covenant’s scope and clarifies its
conditional dimensions. Abram is commanded to “walk before me faithfully and be
blameless,” followed by the divine commitment, “Then I will make my covenant
between me and you.” Abram’s renaming as Abraham—“father of many
nations”—signals that the covenant’s horizon extends beyond a single ethnic
lineage.16
The New Testament’s repeated appeal to Abraham in
discussions of Israel’s identity and vocation reflects this foundational role.
The promises to Abraham include not only nationhood and land, but the blessing
of “all the families of the earth.” While Isaac is identified as the covenantal
heir, Abraham fathers multiple sons, reinforcing the multinational scope
embedded within the promise itself.17
Significantly, “Israel” as a named entity does not emerge
until Jacob, Abraham’s grandson. Like Abraham, Jacob receives his new name
directly from God, marking a covenantal transformation tied to divine purpose.
Deuteronomy 32’s identification of “Jacob” as the Lord’s portion underscores
this covenantal—not merely biological—definition.
Two phrases central to the Abrahamic narrative warrant
particular attention: “believed the Lord” (Gen. 15:6) and “obeyed my voice”
(Gen. 26:5). In Hebrew thought, belief and obedience are inseparable. The verb
šāmaʿ (“hear”) encompasses attentive listening, trust, and responsive action.
Faith is thus inherently active, not merely cognitive.18
This pattern continues with Isaac and Jacob. Each receives
the promise accompanied by specific commands and responds in obedience. Jacob’s
vow at Bethel (Gen. 28:20–22) further illustrates the reciprocal structure of
covenant fidelity. The repetition of the promise across generations underscores
that covenant participation is neither automatic nor unconditional.
(14) Covenant Judgment, Jerusalem, and the Jewish–Roman Wars
The covenantal warnings of Leviticus 26:27–35 bear striking
resemblance to later apocalyptic imagery, including passages in Revelation and
Jesus’ prophetic discourse in Luke 21:5–24. The destruction of Jerusalem in AD
70 during the Jewish–Roman wars appears to correspond closely to these warnings.
An earlier precedent exists in the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem in 586
BC, which was explicitly accompanied by a seventy-year exile and a promise of
return.19
By contrast, the Jewish–Roman wars (66–136 AD) include no
comparable biblical promise of restoration or timeframe for return. While
divine mercy remains available upon repentance, Scripture contains no
unambiguous declaration that Israel would again possess the land or rebuild the
temple following this later judgment.
The Jewish–Roman did not end with the destruction of
Jerusalem and the temple in 70 AD. Following that, there were further battles
that consisted of multiple revolts culminating in the Bar Kokhba uprising
(132–136 AD). Roman suppression was brutal and decisive, resulting in mass
death, enslavement, and widespread displacement. Judea was effectively
depopulated, and Jewish national life was shattered. Ancient and later sources
describe scenes of extraordinary violence, imagery that resonates with
apocalyptic biblical language (cf. Rev. 14:20).20
Accounts of the siege of Jerusalem in AD 70—drawing
primarily on Josephus—depict famine, mass crucifixions, internal violence, and
the eventual destruction of the temple, despite Roman attempts to preserve it.
Jesus’ prophecy that “not one stone would be left upon another” (Matt. 24:2)
was fulfilled with devastating precision.21
These events coincided with the rise of multiple messianic
claimants, culminating in Simon bar Kokhba, whose revolt was widely regarded by
many Jews as messianic in nature. Jesus had warned of false messiahs during
precisely such periods of upheaval (Matt. 24:5, 23–26). Historians commonly
identify this era as decisive in the widening separation between Judaism and
Christianity.22
The existence of this historical split, however, does not
necessitate the conclusion that God established two distinct peoples. Rather,
the evidence suggests the continuation of a single people of God, now defined
by faith in the Messiah rather than ethnicity alone—a remnant composed of both
Jewish and Gentile believers (cf. Gal. 3:28; Rom. 9:6–7, 27–29).
Early
Christian sources indicate that believers who heeded Jesus’ warnings escaped
Jerusalem prior to its destruction.23
The question now that must be considered is: will later generations similarly
heed the declarations of Jesus?
The Bar Kokhba revolt was the third and final major
escalation of the Jewish–Roman wars. This was a large-scale armed rebellion by
the Jews of Judea against the Roman Empire, led by Simon bar Kokhba that began
in 132 A.D. and lasted until 136 A.D.. The Roman army brutally suppressed the
uprising which resulted in a total defeat of the short-lived Jewish state. The
Roman campaigns led to the near-depopulation of Judea through widespread
killings, mass enslavement, and the displacement of many Jews from the region.
The last Jewish stronghold was Betar and it was here that Bar Kokhba was killed.
“The horrendous scene after the
city's capture could be best described as a massacre. 112} The Jerusalem Talmud relates that the number of dead in
Betar was enormous, and that the Romans "went about slaughtering them
until a horse sunk in blood up to its nostrils, and the blood carried away
boulders that weighted forty sela until it went four miles into the sea. If you should think
that it (Betar) was close to the sea, behold, it was forty miles distant from
the sea."{113}{114}”
{Quote
taken from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bar_Kokhba_revolt}
Certainly, parts of that description sound as if they could
have been lifted right out of Passages such as Revelation 14:20, “And the wine
press was trampled outside the city, and blood came out from the wine press, up
to the horses’ bridles, for a distance of 1,600 stadia.”
With respect to the seige of Jerusalem that began in 66 A.D.
I’ve included this brief account. The following quote is taken from The Siege of
Jerusalem, by Jared Jackson and draws on sources from: Keller,
Werner. 1956. “The Bible as History.” New York, NY: William Morrow & Co.;
as well as from Whitson, William. 1957. “The Life and Works of Flavius
Josephus,” Philadelphia, PA: John C. Winston.
“…Food
rations inside the city were scarce. During the nights, ghostly figures would
sneak through hidden passages to steal food amid supplies from the soldiers’
tents. Titus decreed that those captured were to be crucified. A forest of
crosses littered the countryside as trees were stripped off the land to satisfy
the orders for crucifying some 500 Jews per day (cf. Matthew 27:25).
A
rampart was built around the city to seal off the hidden passages. Hunger
became so intense that the citizens became insane with famine, resorting to
murdering one another over food; they even practiced cannibalism. Those who
perished were cast over the walls into piles of bodies that remained unburied.
The scene of the Holy City was one of utter desolation.
The
campaign was taking longer than Titus expected; the soldiers were becoming
difficult to manage. They could see Herod’s temple, with its golden surfaces
glittering in each evening’s sunset. Every soldier could imagine himself taking
spoil of what lay beyond the walls. The Jews who tried to escape had their
bodies ripped open, as pitiless soldiers searched their stomachs for jewels and
gold.
The
Roman army gradually subdued the city, but was impeded when it reached the
temple compound. The massive stone walls were impenetrable; the soldiers gained
access by burning the great temple doors. Upon gaining entry, Titus commanded
his men to put out the fire and “spare the Sanctuary.” But the Jews violently
attacked those extinguishing the fire. The Romans retaliated with merciless
slaughter; they went berserk — partly out of vengeance, partly with greed.
As the
battle raged on, suddenly, a soldier—without command—launched a torch through
the Golden Window of the temple. Instantly, the flames licked the fabrics and
wood that adorned the interior of that precious building. Titus again commanded
his soldiers to put out the fire, but to no avail. The temple was lost.
Eventually, the soldiers completely tore apart the compound, looking for
rumored treasures. They plundered the city and extracted vengeance from the
enemy that had resisted them so bitterly, and had cost them so much.
Having
lost its glory, Titus ordered the city razed to bury the evil he had witnessed.
Some 40 years earlier, Jesus had prophesied that “not one of
these stones shall be left one upon another” (Matthew 24:1-2). Despite the
efforts of the Jews to defend their temple, and the endeavors of the Roman
general to preserve that precious building, Christ’s words were fulfilled. The
Savior’s prophecy could not be thwarted by mere human resistance. He is Lord of
all!
Why discuss such
horrors? Why elaborate on the gory details? The destruction of God’s own city,
Jerusalem, speaks to the judgment prophecies of Christ and should serve as a
vivid warning to all of us to heed His words and prepare for His Kingdom that
is to come fully.
________________________________________
New here? You may want to start with the Start Here page to understand how this series fits together.
For a broader reflection on mortality, judgment, and why these questions matter in the first place, see: Sin, Soul, Death, and Hell.
____________________________________
1.
John Nelson
Darby, The Collected Writings of J. N. Darby, vol. 2 (Kingston-on-Thames: Stow
Hill, 1962), 89–127; Ernest R. Sandeen, The Roots of Fundamentalism (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1970), 63–95.
2.
Darby, Collected
Writings, 2:94–102; Craig A. Blaising and Darrell L. Bock, Progressive
Dispensationalism (Wheaton, IL: BridgePoint, 1993), 49–72.
3.
Charles C. Ryrie,
Dispensationalism, rev. ed. (Chicago: Moody Press, 1995), 39–47; George M. Marsden,
Understanding Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991),
36–58.
4.
Ryrie,
Dispensationalism, 145–148; Blaising and Bock, Progressive Dispensationalism,
89–94.
5.
N. T. Wright,
Paul and the Faithfulness of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2013), 787–799;
Michael J. Vlach, Has the Church Replaced Israel? (Nashville: B&H Academic,
2010), 15–28.
6.
Gordon D. Fee,
Pauline Christology (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2007), 44–48; Septuagint usage
discussed in Moisés Silva, Biblical Words and Their Meaning (Grand Rapids:
Zondervan, 1994), 99–103.
7.
N. T. Wright,
Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 202–207; R.
T. France, The Gospel of Matthew (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 622–627.
8.
N. T. Wright,
Paul and the Faithfulness of God, 820–826; F. F. Bruce, The Epistles to the
Colossians, to Philemon, and to the Ephesians (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1984), 303–307.
9.
Acts 7:38; see G.
K. Beale, A New Testament Biblical Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic,
2011), 109–145.
10. Christopher J. H. Wright, The Mission of God (Downers
Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2006), 65–92; Bruce K. Waltke, An Old Testament
Theology (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007), 308–312.
11. R. K. Harrison, Old Testament Times (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1970), 195–203; N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, 345–368.
12. N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God,
770–783.
13. Appendix Footnotes (Continued)
14. Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1–15 (Word Biblical
Commentary 1; Waco, TX: Word Books, 1987), 219–231.
15. John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the
Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 94–102; Josh. 24:2.
16. Michael S. Heiser, The Unseen Realm: Recovering the
Supernatural Worldview of the Bible (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015),
113–120.
17. Bruce K. Waltke, An Old Testament Theology, 287–292;
Gen. 17:1–8.
18. K. A. Kitchen, On the Reliability of the Old Testament
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 307–312.
19. Bruce K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to
Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 564–566.
20. R. K. Harrison, Old Testament Times, 195–203; Lev.
26:27–35.
21. Peter Schäfer, The Bar Kokhba War Reconsidered
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 1–35.
22. Flavius Josephus, The Jewish War, trans. G. A.
Williamson (London: Penguin, 1981), 300–375.
23. Paula Fredriksen, From Jesus to Christ (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 2000), 235–255.
24.
Eusebius,
Ecclesiastical History 3.5.3, trans. Kirsopp Lake (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1926).
