The Case for the Real Jesus

by Lee Strobel

  “Our beliefs can’t change reality,” he said. “Whether we choose to believe it or not, Jesus is the unique Son of God. How do we know? Because he convincingly demonstrated the trustworthiness of his remarkable claims through his resurrection. He is who he is, regardless of what we think. So we have a choice: we can live in a fantasyland of our own making by believing whatever we want about him; or we can seek to discover who he really is—and then bring ourselves into alignment with the real Jesus and his teachings.”

  THE JESUS OF HISTORY

  Copan’s conclusions about Jesus, of course, depend on whether he has an accurate assessment of what occurred in ancient history. Postmoderns, however, contend that history is—above all else—interpretive, and thus we can’t be absolutely sure what happened in the past. The implication is clear, I said to Copan: if we lack certainty about history, then one person’s version of Jesus would be just as valid as anyone else’s—or the church’s.

  Copan furrowed his brow as I made my point. “The Australian historian Keith Windschuttle says in his book The Killing of History that for 2,300 years we have taken history seriously and believed we can know certain things about the past,” he began.25 “Now, in our day, there’s skepticism about whether we can come to any solid conclusions about history. The study of history is seen as nothing more than one set of interpretations that come to be replaced by another. We’re left without any confidence about how to approach history.”

  “Precisely,” I said.

  Copan thought for a moment, then grinned. “It’s interesting that when people say we have to be historical skeptics, they speak with great confidence about skepticism!” he said, amused by the irony. “They’re making remarkably strong assertions about the uncertainty of the study of history. The question needs to be asked, ‘Why should we take their interpretation of history instead of anybody else’s?’ It’s amazing how many people will trash history as being purely interpretive—but they expect us to take their word for it!

  “At the same time, we have to remember that when we’re dealing with history, we’re dealing with probabilities—what are the likely and reasonable conclusions that can be drawn? And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean that we can’t be confident about certain historical events. We can know with great confidence, for example, that Hitler didn’t overthrow the Roman Empire or that Stalin wasn’t the first American president. We can know about the Reformation—Martin Luther posting his ninety-five theses in 1517, the church’s sale of indulgences, Erasmus’s influence on Luther in the translation of the New Testament, and so forth.

  “The question comes at an interpretive level. Given the facts of history—which we can conclude from historical records, archaeology, and so forth—how do we put the historical picture together? Yes, there are going to be some differing interpretations, but it’s not all a matter of interpretation. We can differentiate between more plausible interpretations and ones that are off-the-wall. Certainly you can’t say one interpretation is as good as any other. Some explanations do a much better job of accounting for the historical facts—they’re more comprehensive, they’re less ad hoc, they’re better supported. So I simply reject the idea that we have to embrace interpretive skepticism.”

  I brought the discussion back to Christ. “How much can we confidently know about Jesus?” I asked. “Is there enough historical data for us to have a sufficient understanding of who he is so we can reject interpretations that simply don’t reflect reality?”

  “We have excellent historical data concerning Jesus,” was his quick response. “He is mentioned in extra-biblical writings, and we have lots of details in the New Testament, which withstands scrutiny very well. The transmission of the New Testament through time has been remarkable. And we have internal evidence of its reliability. The criterion of embarrassment offers strong support for the Gospels and Acts. In other words, we have sayings and acts by Jesus—including his ignorance about the time of his return, his cursing of the fig tree, and even his crucifixion itself—that would not have been included if the authors were fabricating the record.

  “When we look at Acts, we see that Luke’s account can be corroborated through archaeology in numerous ways. So we have to ask the question: ‘If Luke is right about these details that can be verified, can’t we trust him when it comes to events that can’t be verified, such as miracles and the identity claims of Jesus?’ Luke specifically states that he is taking objective evidence seriously by investigating the truth of what took place.26 Plus, we know from the ‘we’ passages in Acts that Luke was a traveling companion of Paul’s, so he was an eyewitness himself to some of the events that transpired.

  “Then look at the transformation that takes place in the disciples and the very elevated view of Jesus in the earliest church. Paul cites early creeds and hymns that center on the death, resurrection, and deity of Jesus. Here is a monotheistic Jew, claiming to be following in the footsteps of his fathers before him, saying that, yes, there is one Lord as we’ve always affirmed, but then identifying Jesus with him in a remarkable way. As Larry Hurtado, professor of New Testament at the University of Edinburgh, wrote in his recent book Lord Jesus Christ, this high view of Jesus is rooted very early in the Jesusalem church.”27

  “Then it’s not a later fabrication?” I asked.

  “No, it’s not—and the evidence Hurtado and other scholars have presented is very compelling. Plus, even before the four Gospels, we have the early epistles—1 and 2 Thessalonians, 1 Corinthians, and so forth—that have a very elevated view of Jesus within twenty years of his crucifixion. How did that emerge in a strictly monotheistic Jewish setting? The resurrection of Jesus does a much better job of explaining this than secular counterparts.”

  “But we can’t have a hundred-percent confidence, can we?” I asked.

  “Maybe not, but we have a very convincing picture that does a better job of explaining the facts than the competing theories. We can talk about the real Jesus of history as being a unique individual who claims to stand in the place of God, who does remarkable things, who claims that in him the Kingdom of God has come, who says that in him a new creation is dawning, and whose claims are vindicated by his resurrection and then corroborated by the lofty beliefs about him in the early church.”

  Copan’s points were well taken, but there was still a problem. “Aren’t many of Jesus’ teachings open to differing interpretations?” I asked.

  “The golden rule of interpretation is that you treat someone’s teachings as you would want your own to be interpreted,” he replied. “We can’t read whatever we want into what Jesus said; we have to seek to accurately understand what he was communicating. This involves a certain amount of study to comprehend what he was saying. But picking and choosing verses out of context, spinning them to say what we want them to say—that’s not responsible scholarship.

  “The question is: Are we willing to take Jesus seriously—even if his teachings may not sit comfortably with us? They may challenge us, they may force us to overturn a lot of our cherished beliefs about ourselves, but are we willing to confront what he taught without distorting it?”

  “Still, some people are very sincere in interpreting Jesus differently than the church traditionally has,” I pointed out.

  “I’ll grant that they’re sincere,” Copan conceded. “As I said earlier, Paul talks about the importance of sincerity and simplicity in urging a pure devotion to Christ. Sincerity is important, but, Lee, we can’t overlook this: sincerity is not sufficient.

  “Weren’t Hitler and Stalin sincerely committed to their beliefs? I’m sure they were. The idea that God would applaud their sincerity is absurd. Sometimes people can be very committed and seemingly sincere, but it’s at the expense of suppressing their conscience. They’ve rejected and resisted the truth or suppressed their moral impulses.”

  “In other words, a person can be sincere but sincerely wrong.”

  “Exactly. Sincerity doesn’t make a person right. Sincerity doesn’
t make something true. I could believe with all the sincerity in the world that the earth is flat, but that doesn’t make it so. I can sincerely believe that I’m every bit as divine as Jesus, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a creature, not the Creator.”

  THE NEW TOLERANCE

  Few things are as politically incorrect these days as saying that another person is wrong about his or her religious beliefs. Such a claim smacks of judgmentalism, which is to be studiously avoided at all costs. “Aren’t you judging other people when you say they’re wrong—and didn’t Jesus say in Matthew 7:1, ‘Do not judge, or you too will be judged’?” I said to Copan.

  The mention of that verse brought a smile to his face. “That passage has replaced John 3:16 as the favorite verse that people like to quote,” he said. “Unfortunately, though, many of them misinterpret what Jesus was saying. Jesus wasn’t implying that we should never make judgments about people.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because in John 7:24, Jesus says, ‘Stop judging by mere appearances, and make a right judgment.’ So he’s clarifying that it’s all right—in fact, it’s a good thing—to make proper judgments about people. What Jesus condemns is a critical and judgmental attitude or unholy sense of moral superiority.

  “The Bible says in Galatians 6:1 that if a fellow Christian is caught in a sin, then those who are spiritual should seek to restore him or her ‘in a spirit of gentleness. Look to yourself, lest you too be tempted.’28 God wants us to examine ourselves first for the problems we so readily detect in other people. Only then should we seek to remove the speck in the other person’s eye.29 So judgmentalism is the ugly refusal to acknowledge that ‘there but for the grace of God go I.’”

  “So the key issue is our attitude?”

  “Yes, that’s right. We can hold our convictions firmly and yet treat people with dignity and respect even though they disagree with us. We can have a spirit of humility while at the same time explaining why we believe someone is wrong. Ephesians 4:15 talks about ‘speaking the truth in love.’ That should be our goal.”

  “It seems like tolerance has become the buzzword of the postmodern world,” I remarked.

  “Tolerance is a wonderful virtue—when it’s properly defined. Its meaning, however, has become distorted in recent years.”

  “In what way?”

  “Traditionally, to be tolerant meant putting up with what we find disagreeable or false. For example, some people will tolerate green beans when they’re served them at a person’s house. They’ll eat them even though it’s not their favorite food. In the same way, tolerance historically has meant that we put up with people even though we disagree with their viewpoint.

  “These days, though, tolerance means that you accept the other person’s views as being true or legitimate. If you claim that someone is wrong, you can get accused of being intolerant—even though, ironically, the person making the charge of intolerance isn’t being accepting of your beliefs.”

  I thought of a Muslim acquaintance of mine who has come over to my house to grill steaks and discuss theology and history. We disagree on fundamental spiritual issues, but neither of us has drawn a knife on the other. We’ve found a way to be civil and respectful without pretending we agree on everything.

  I shared that anecdote with Copan. “That’s exactly what true tolerance is about,” he said. “Dialogue shouldn’t begin by assuming the equality of all truth claims, which is a ridiculous position. Instead, dialogue should begin with assuming the equality of all persons.

  “Each of us is made in the image of God and therefore has dignity and value as an individual. You can say, ‘I accept you as a person but that doesn’t mean I embrace the beliefs that you hold.’ You can have a discussion with your Muslim friend and thoroughly respect him even though you believe on rational grounds that he’s mistaken.

  “The very fact that both of your views can’t be right is an impetus to engage in a meaningful dialogue. This becomes a chance for both sides to argue their positions. True tolerance grants people the right to dissent.”

  ARROGANCE AND EXCLUSIVITY

  Nevertheless, many people accuse Christians of being arrogant when they insist that their religious beliefs are right while others are wrong. Theologian John Hick says all the world’s religions are ‘different culturally conditioned responses to the ultimately Real.’30 In other words, religion is the imperfect attempts by human beings to understand the Ultimate Reality.

  “That would mean that while all world religions express themselves differently, they all should be respected and none should claim superiority,” I said to Copan.

  Copan was well-versed in Hick’s philosophy. “Religious pluralists like Hick believe that all religions are capable of bringing salvation or liberation, and that this is evidenced by the moral fruits produced by those religions—people like Mahatma Gandhi and the Dalai Lama, for example,” he explained. “But I think the pluralist is displaying the same arrogance that he accuses Christians of having when Christians claim Jesus is the only way to God.”

  That statement intrigued me. “In what way?” I asked.

  “The pluralist is saying if you disagree with his viewpoint, then at that juncture you would be in error. He’s saying that the Christian is wrong and that he’s right. The pluralist believes that his view ought to be accepted and the Christian’s view rejected. So he’s being as ‘arrogant’ as he accuses Christians of being. The pluralist is just as much of an exclusivist as the Christian.”

  Copan waited for a moment while I digested his logical jujitsu. “Are you familiar with the parable of the blind men before the king of Benares, India, who are each touching an elephant?” he asked as he continued.

  I told him I knew the tale about the one blind man who touches the elephant’s tail and concludes it’s a rope; another who touches the elephant’s leg and thinks it’s a pillar; a third who touches its side and thinks it’s a wall; and the fourth who touches the trunk and thinks it’s a snake. The parable is often used to explain how various world religions are reaching out to God but only seeing part of the picture.

  “Well, where’s the pluralist in all of this?” asked Copan. “Is he another blind man, touching his own part of the elephant—in which case, why should we believe him any more than anybody else? Or is he sitting back like the king and saying, ‘They don’t see the big picture like I do.’ Now, there’s nothing wrong with that—after all, Christians say Jesus broke into history and has given us the big picture. So how can it be arrogant for Christians to make that claim if the pluralist is basically claiming the same thing?

  “Think about it: if Hick is right and the world religions are culturally conditioned attempts to reach out to the ultimate Reality, then what about Hick himself? Isn’t his belief about the Real and the nature of religions culturally conditioned—and, if so, why should his viewpoint be preferred when he’s just as culturally conditioned as everyone else?”

  I couldn’t help but interrupt. “Yet aren’t we culturally conditioned to some degree?” I asked. “Isn’t it true that if you were born in Saudi Arabia, you’d probably be a Muslim, or if you were born in India, you’d probably be a Hindu?”

  “Statistically speaking, that could be true,” he said. “And if the pluralist had grown up in medieval France or modern Somalia, he probably wouldn’t be a pluralist. So the geography argument doesn’t carry much weight. Besides, I could make the claim that if you lived in Nazi Germany, the chances are you would have been part of the Hitler Youth. Or if you lived in Stalin’s Russia, you would have been a Communist. But does that mean Nazism or Communism is as good a political system as democracy?

  “No—just because there has been a diversity of political systems through history doesn’t prevent us from concluding that one political system is superior to its rivals. Presumably, there are good reasons for preferring one political system over another. There are good reasons for rejecting a system like Nazism or Communism in favor of de
mocracies. So why can’t it be the same with regard to religious beliefs?

  “The point is: are there good reasons for believing one religious viewpoint over another? I conclude, based on the historical evidence for Jesus’ resurrection, that he has been vindicated as the true Son of God. And if Jesus is who he says he is, then Hick would acknowledge that pluralism is done for. Pluralism cannot survive if Jesus Christ is the unique way to God. So the pluralist has to try to explain away the evidence for the incarnation and the resurrection. The pluralist has to reject the Trinity and salvation only coming through Jesus. He simply cannot allow the Christian faith to be what it claims to be.

  “Now, isn’t that being exclusive—and ‘arrogant’?”

  JESUS AND THE MARGINALIZED

  Even so, I still saw problems. “When one religion, like Christianity, claims a unique path to salvation, doesn’t that inevitably lead to marginalizing and persecuting people who believe otherwise?” I asked. “Is common ground for discussion even possible when one group claims a monopoly on truth?”

  “Again, it’s important to affirm that all truth is God’s truth. It’s not as though Christians have a monopoly on truth and that if you don’t believe the Bible, then you’re a hundred percent in the dark,” Copan said. “God has made himself generally known to people, and there are things we can hold in common, like reason, experience, and moral understanding. We can cooperate with one another on certain important moral and social issues, even if we don’t share the same theological outlook.

  “But let’s be clear about something: Jesus is not seeking to marginalize anyone. We read 2 Peter 3:9 that God isn’t willing that any should perish, but that all would come to repentance. It’s not God who marginalizes people; actually, it’s people who marginalize God. What prevents universal salvation is human freedom—a rejection of God’s salvation. It’s human beings who push God away and who want to keep him at arm’s length. God makes his salvation available to all people, but not all choose to embrace it.