Christus VIctor The Warfare Significance Of Christ’S Death And Resurrection

This is consistent with how God has operated throughout history. He has always chosen to use the foolish and weak things of the world to overthrow the “wise” and “strong” in the world who resist him (1 Cor 1:18-30). Thus for the same reason that God chose to slay a multitude of Philistines with the “foolishness” of a jawbone wielded by a man of questionable character (Judg 15:15), for the same reason that God chose to slay Goliath by the “foolishness” of a stone slung by a young shepherd boy (1 Sam 17:45-52), and for the same reason that God chose to save the world through the “foolishness” of preaching about a crucified first-century Jewish carpenter (1 Cor 1:18), so the Lord now chooses to carry out his coup de grâce of the enemy by the foolishness of his church, these weak, struggling, imperfect people whose only qualification for warfare is that they have said yes to the Lord’s gracious invitation to be set free.

The church not only is a benefactor of Christ’s cosmic victory but is also called to play a vital cosmic function in Christ’s victory. We the church, in all our foolishness, are called to manifest on earth and in heaven Christ’s kingdom-building ministry, taking what is already true in principle because of what he has done and manifesting it as accomplished reality by what we do. In this way “the wisdom of God in its rich variety” is declared to the principalities and powers.

This wisdom we are to manifest obviously includes the deliverance of humans from Satan’s kingdom (Col 1:13), hence we are to be vitally interested in saving individual souls. But in contrast to far too much modern conservative Christian thinking, the saving of individuals does not exhaust the content of what the church should be about as we proclaim God’s manifold wisdom. To the contrary, as we have seen, the wisdom revealed in Christ Jesus, the very wisdom we are to proclaim, was cosmic before it was anthropological.

Just as our redemption is a feature of Christ’s broader cosmic accomplishments, so too the church’s passion to save individuals should be a feature of our burden to manifest Christ’s victory over his cosmic foes in all areas of life. For example, since part of God’s goal all along has been to restore humans to their rightful place as caring (not tyrannizing) stewards of the earth, since Christ has in principle accomplished this by freeing us from the lordship of Satan, and since the restoration of nature is throughout Scripture understood to be one dimension of God’s eschatological vision, the church can hardly dismiss ecological concerns as being outside the parameters of its “spiritual” interests. Quite the contrary, through prayer and activism we are called to “curse the curse” and to free the earth from all forms of spiritual and physical destructive oppression, or rather to manifest the truth that the earth is in principle already freed from such oppression. The corrupted angelic guardians of nature have been defeated, and it is time for the church to proclaim it.

So too, since Christ has in principle defeated the fallen “gods” (principalities and powers) who have for ages inspired injustice, cruelty and apathy toward the weak, the poor, the oppressed and the needy (Ps 82), the church can hardly carry out its role in manifesting, on earth and in heaven, Christ’s victory over these gods without taking up as a central part of its mission just these causes. We can, in truth, no more bifurcate social concerns and individual salvation than we can bifurcate the cosmic and anthropocentric dimensions of Christ’s work on the cross.

To cite one more example, if Christ on the cross has in fact torn down the racial wall of separation that divided people-groups (Eph 2:11-22), and if his Spirit now seeks to manifest this by reversing the effects of the catastrophe at the tower of Babel (Acts 2:5-12), then the church has no choice but to seek to manifest this reality as intensely as we have sought to manifest the reality that the forgiveness for our individual sins was purchased on the cross. In other words, that racism has ended ought to be as demonstrable in the church—to our culture and in the face of the (now defeated) spiritual powers of racism—as is the gospel truth that personal condemnation has ended.

This is our part in spiritual war. We proclaim Christ’s truth by praying it, speaking it and (undoubtedly most importantly) by demonstrating it. We are not to accept with serene pious resignation the evil aspects of our world as “coming from a father’s hand.” Rather, following the example of our Lord and Savior, and going forth with the confidence that he has in principle already defeated his (and our) foes, we are to revolt against the evil aspects of our world as coming from the devil’s hand. Our revolt is to be broad—as broad as the evil we seek to confront, and as broad as the work of the cross we seek to proclaim. Wherever there is destruction, hatred, apathy, injustice, pain or hopelessness, whether it concerns God’s creation, a structural feature of society, or the physical, psychological or spiritual aspect of an individual, we are in word and deed to proclaim to the evil powers that be, “You are defeated.” As Jesus did, we proclaim this by demonstrating it.

The divine comedy. Another dimension of “the wisdom of God in its rich variety” we have not yet considered is a dimension of the gospel that is rarely seriously discussed in Christian circles today (especially among Protestants). But it was a significant feature of the New Testament’s proclamation, and it played a vital role in the theology of the early postapostolic church. Our own appreciation for the rich variety of God’s wisdom is increased by recovering it.

I am referring to the prevalent early church view that in the death and resurrection of Christ, God actually outsmarted Satan and his legions with the result that they ultimately brought about their own demise. “None of the rulers of this age understood [God’s secret wisdom],” Paul writes, “for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Cor 2:8).

Perhaps blinded by their inability to understand love, even those demons who seemed to know who Jesus was could not understand why he had come to earth (Mk 1:24; 5:7; Lk 8:21), an ignorance apparently shared by higher demonic powers (“rulers of this age”) as well. Since his early attempt in the desert to tempt Jesus into collaboration with his evil kingdom had failed miserably, Satan, along with his rulers, apparently set about to seize what they thought was a moment of vulnerability (viz., the Son is now human) and had Jesus crucified. Indeed, according to John, Satan possessed Judas for the express purpose of inciting him to betray Jesus and bring about the crucifixion (Jn 13:27).

The greatest irony in all of history, however, is that Satan and his minions were all the while playing right into God’s hands, precisely when they thought they were striking a decisive blow against him. In a genius stroke of military planning, God seems to have tricked Satan into signing his own death warrant. The cross was God’s plan, but it was carried out by “the rulers,” and thanks to these foiled rulers, it brought about Christ’s—not Satan’s—victory.

It seems that God used Satan’s insatiable lust for more (viz., his desire to capture the Son) to take away what Satan had already acquired (his captives). The “foolishness” of the cross thus made fools of God’s opponents and demonstrated God’s wisdom in liberating his children from their captivity. As we saw above, throughout eternity these liberated children will declare to all the “powers” the manifold wisdom of God that made a mockery of God’s opponents, that freed them from their sins, that employed them in all their frailty to finish up his warfare work, and that made these former slaves into coheirs on the throne of God over all the earth.

This reading was by far the most popular way in which the warfare significance of the cross and resurrection was thought through in the early postapostolic church. Sometimes called “the fishhook theory,” it portrayed Christ as “bait” that God used to “hook” Satan. The theory at times became remarkably extravagant, as when God was portrayed as deceptively giving Christ to Satan as a “ransom” for his children, only to take him back again. However, though a fair amount of fantasy was often interwoven into the conception, and though the way in which this “outsmarting” was articulated at times expressed a less-than-ideal view of God (viz., God was deceptive), the core of the concept is biblical. God used Satan’s evil to bring about Satan’s own demise. Just this constitutes a central dimension of “God’s wisdom, secret and hidden.”

This reading of 1 Corinthians 2:8 is not unanimous, however. A minority of scholars argue that the term archonton in this passage refers to human rulers.26 Their case is usually argued along one or more of three lines, which we do well to address briefly.

First, many point out that the plural archonton is nowhere else used of demonic beings in the New Testament. Second, some argue that the immediate context fits better with human rather than demonic rulers. Third, others argue that the interpretation of archonton as human rulers is more consistent with the New Testament teaching as a whole, since elsewhere demons are portrayed as knowing who Jesus was.

None of these arguments is strong, in my estimation.27 Concerning the first argument that the plural of archon is not elsewhere used of demonic beings in the New Testament, we must consider four refutations.

? The singular archon is certainly used to refer to a demonic being (Satan) numerous times (e.g., Mk 3:22; Jn 12:31; 14:30; 16:11; Eph 2:2), which is enough to show that a plural use of this term referring to demonic powers would be entirely possible.

? A plural form of arche is used several times to refer to demonic beings (Eph 3:10; 6:12; Col 1:16; 2:15), and no one has yet demonstrated that arche and archon differ precisely in that the plural form of the latter, but not the former, can refer only to human rulers. Moreover, the plural use of arche in the New Testament is enough to show that the New Testament has no theological reservation about referring to a plurality of demonic powers as “rulers.” This clearly opens up the possibility of understanding archonton as referring to, or at least as including, just such supernatural “rulers.”

? The word sampling in the New Testament is so small that it is always dangerous to make too much of the absence of a particular form of a particular word within this literary collection. The same logic that would prohibit archonton from referring to demonic rulers in 1 Corinthians 2:6-8 might also rule out understanding Matthew 8:31 to be referring to “demons” simply because it is the only place where the plural of daimon (as opposed to the more usual daimonion) is used. But for obvious reasons no one argues in this fashion concerning this use of the singular form.

? Finally, a precedent for reading 1 Corinthians 2:6-8 as referring to demonic beings is found in the Septuagint translation of Daniel 10:13. Here Michael is said to be the chief angel among the “rulers” (archonton). What is more, a precedent for understanding archonton in this fashion is found in later church fathers.28 Indeed, it is difficult to understand how the “fishhook” and “deception” theories of the atonement came about, let alone became dominant, unless archonton in 1 Corinthians 2:8 was taken as referring to demonic principalities and powers by the earliest church fathers.

The second and third arguments against reading archonton as referring to demonic rulers are even weaker. The immediate literary context, the wider Pauline theological context and the general teaching of the New Testament favor reading archonton as referring to demonic powers. Consider the following five arguments.

? It is true that following Paul’s reference to the archonton, he proceeds quickly to contrast “those who are spiritual,” who understand the wisdom of God, with “those who are unspiritual,” for whom the wisdom of God is “foolishness” (1 Cor 2:14-15). But this does not itself imply that he has only human rulers in mind in 2:6-8. The more fundamental contrast being made throughout this passage is between “the spirit of the world” and “the Spirit that is from God” (2:12). As in John, for Paul human divisions exemplify more fundamental spiritual divisions. Satan is, for Paul, “the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient” (Eph 2:2) and “the god of this world” who has “blinded the minds of the unbelievers” (2 Cor 4:4). Given this perspective, it is difficult not to suppose that Paul has both ungodly human and demonic beings in mind when he speaks of “the rulers of this age.”

? The reading of archonton as including demonic rulers fits in best with the apocalyptic orientation of Paul’s thought. The political state that is at war with God—demonstrated in the crucifixion of his Son—is a state that is significantly controlled by powers that are at war with God. As a number of commentators have noted, such a reading of 1 Corinthians 2:6-8 is thoroughly at home in an apocalyptic context.29

? Conversely, reading archonton as referring only to human rulers seems a bit awkward, especially when read in this apocalyptic context. Such a reading, while in sync with modern sensibilities, grants more significance and autonomy to political powers than Jewish apocalyptic thought was usually inclined to grant. But even beyond this, the connection between earthly powers and God’s wisdom seems stretched on this reading. As Conzelmann succinctly poses the question, “What should earthly powers have to do with supernatural wisdom?”30 If archonton here refers merely to earthly rulers, it seems we are comparing apples with oranges. Posed otherwise, why would Paul or anyone expect that pagan earthly rulers would know the wisdom of God? Why would he think that if they had known this wisdom, they would not have crucified Jesus?

? Further, it is difficult to understand how the “rulers of this age” are “coming to nothing” (1 Cor 2:6 NIV), and are doing so because they ignorantly crucified the Lord of glory, if these rulers are mere humans. In the light of Paul’s strong teaching about how Jesus’ death and resurrection is the means by which the spiritual opponents of God are ultimately to be destroyed, it is much easier to read archonton as referring primarily to demonic powers (and to human authorities only as expressions of this demonic kingdom).

? Finally, the fact that the Synoptic Gospels portray demons as sometimes knowing who Jesus is hardly counts against understanding 1 Corinthians 2:6-8 as including demonic powers. After all, it was not “the Lord of glory” whom the “rulers” did not know, according to Paul. It was rather “God’s wisdom, secret and hidden” (2:6). As in the Synoptic Gospels, the demonic powers know very well who Jesus is. What they are unable to understand is the secret wisdom of God in sending him to earth. Hence demons in the Synoptic Gospels ask continually, “Why have you come?” Thus we can imagine that it was precisely because of this ignorance that they unwittingly played into God’s master plan, a plan that apparently wisely anticipated their ignorance. This reading of 1 Corinthians 2:6 and 8 thus squares perfectly with, and even sheds further light on, the Gospels.

I thus conclude that we have every reason to interpret Paul in this passage as teaching that it was the demonic powers who were ultimately behind the crucifixion of Jesus, and that in doing this these powers unwittingly played into God’s hand. For in crucifying the Lord of glory Satan and his legions sealed their own doom (cf. Col 2:14-15).

Tying up the strong man and releasing the captives. We see, then, that part of the wisdom which the church is to proclaim—and perhaps part of what Christ himself proclaimed (kerysso) when, according to the dominant tradition, he descended into “prison” to announce his victory to the rebellious spirits (1 Pet 3:19-20)—is that God orchestrated the destruction of Satan’s empire by having it devour itself through its own evil. The cross and resurrection were the central means of this downfall, and God used Satan himself to bring it about.

This brilliant victory over the rebel powers through the foolishness of the cross stands at the center of everything the New Testament is about. It certainly is the presupposition of every feature of the anthropological significance of the cross. We now add that it is the presupposition of every aspect of Christian living, for Christian life is, in the end, simply life lived to manifest the truth of what Christ accomplished.

For example, John writes that because Christ has already overcome Satan, the one who is ultimately behind all sin (1 Jn 3:8,12; 4:3, etc.), believers too can “overcome the evil one” (1 Jn 2:13-14) and live free from sin (Jn 3:6, 9; 5:18). We can now overcome “that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world,” for we war against him “by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of [our] testimony” (Rev 12:9, 11). Our freedom and our victory, we again see, are predicated on Christ’s shed blood and hence his victory over our former ruler, Satan.

The author of Hebrews expresses the same prioritization when he writes that Christ shared in our humanity “so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil” (2:14). The consequence of this, he adds, is to “free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (2:15). Before the chains of death could be broken, the “strong man” who tyrannized us with them had to be “tied up” (Mt 12:29) or “destroyed.” Before those imprisoned in his kingdom could be released, he had to be bound. This is precisely what Christ’s death accomplished. To state it in Johannine terms, the cross “drove out” the “ruler of this world” (Jn 12:31) and condemned him (16:11). The result, for all who will receive it, is freedom.31

This conception of salvation as deliverance from Satan is clearly expressed in the Lord’s commissioning to the newly converted Saul of Tarsus:

I am sending you [to the Gentiles] to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me. (Acts 26:17-18)

In the light of Satan’s defeat because of the cross, proclaiming the good news means offering people a chance to “escape from the snare of the devil, having been held captive by him to do his will” (2 Tim 2:26).32 When they receive the liberating life of Christ into their life, they are “set free from this present evil age” (Gal 1:4), forgiven their sins, and made righteous by the blood of Jesus Christ.

So too Paul can encourage the Christians at Colosse to give thanks “to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light” (Col 1:12). He then tells them what this qualification consists of: “He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins” (1:13-14).

What “enables” us to participate in the inheritance of the saints is the fact that our former slavery to the strong man has been abolished. Satan has been defeated, and the sin that gave him authority over us has been canceled. Hence we have been “rescued” from one kingdom and transported (methistemi) into another.33 We have, in a word, been literally “saved” (Eph 2:5, 8).34

This is the same thought that lies behind another passage in Colossians, one of the most victorious passages found in the whole Bible:

He forgave us all our trespasses, erasing the record that stood against us with its legal demands. He set this aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it. (Col 2:13-15)

“Record” (cheirographon) most probably refers to an official certificate of indebtedness.35 For Paul, it here stands for everything believers ever did, or did not do, which sold them into slavery to the enemy and set them at war with God. This metaphorical document, Paul then says, Christ “erased” (exaleipho, literally “wiped clean”) by removing it from us and nailing it to the cross. This last phrase is likely an allusion to the tablet fixed over a criminal’s head describing the crimes for which the criminal is crucified.36 Paul is graphically saying that Christ was crucified “for our transgressions” (Is 53:5). As he elsewhere puts it, God made Christ “to be sin . . . so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor 5:21).

In doing all this, Paul then says, Christ “disarmed” or “stripped away” (apekdyomai) the weapons of the demonic powers (Col 2:15).37 He seems to have specifically in mind the power of these spiritual rulers to condemn believers. They have, quite literally, nothing more on the believer who stands righteous and holy in Jesus Christ (Rom 8:1, 31-34). The certificate of indebtedness has been canceled. Thus the tyrants who once ruled over us are now made into a “public example” or “public spectacle” (NIV), a likely reference to a military general leading his captives through the streets of his kingdom to display his victory over the vanquished army.38

The passage is clearly speaking about the significance of the cross for us by weaving together its anthropocentric and cosmic dimensions. The cross triumphed over God’s enemies. The war that had been waged for eons was here, in principle, brought to a close. What this means for us is total and unconditional freedom. We are no longer slaves to demonic condemnation, for everything Satan and his legions could ever condemn us for was destroyed in the same act that destroyed them.

Indeed, Paul can go so far in expressing our freedom from demonic powers as to say that we “with Christ died to the elemental spirits of the universe” (Col 2:20). Even more, Paul insists that we “have come to fullness in [Christ], who is the head of every ruler and authority” (2:10). Not only are we dead to demonic powers, but we have within us, according to Paul, the very same power over them that Christ himself has.39

The descent into prison. Closely related to this theme is the earlier mentioned depiction of Christ’s descent into prison, a theme that vividly captured the imagination of the early church. Two passages in particular address this theme.

The first passage that addresses this theme is the earlier cited 1 Peter 3:18-20.

For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God. He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, in which also he went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah, during the building of the ark.

Three basic interpretations have been offered regarding the identity of the “spirits in prison” referred to in this passage.40 Calvin suggested that the “spirits” here are the souls of faithful Old Testament saints.41 Few have followed him. A number of scholars have argued that the “spirits” are the souls of people killed in the flood.42 But the majority of scholars, past and present, have argued that these “spirits” are the fallen angels or the demonic offspring of their hybrid union with women referred to (according to the Watcher tradition; see chapter six above) in Genesis 6:1-4.43

The majority view seems the most compelling. While I cannot fully enter into the issues presently, three basic considerations are worth mentioning. First, the New Testament never elsewhere refers to deceased human beings as “spirits” in an unqualified way, as Peter does here. Rather, it uses the term psyche (soul). “Spirits,” unless qualified, always refers to nonhuman spiritual beings.44

Second, only the third interpretation gives adequate weight to the unusual fact that the spirits here are distinctly associated with the Noachian judgment. If the Lord is here preaching to deceased humans, why limit his audience to those involved in the flood?

The reference to the Genesis 6 rebellion unmistakably brings to mind the Watcher tradition, which in turn makes highly unlikely any suggestion that Peter does not have in mind here fallen angels (or the demons that sprang from them). In fact, and most significantly, this tradition had already spoken of the fallen angels (“stars of heaven”) who transgressed their assigned places in Genesis 6 as being bound in prison.45 Given the prevalence of this tradition in the culture within which Peter is writing (see chapter six above), it seems quite improbable that he is not here appropriating something like this conception.

Finally, the third interpretation fits best with the verses that immediately follow this passage. Peter ties in the flood with Christian baptism (vv. 20-21), which, as is well known, was associated primarily with deliverance from evil spirits in the early church.46 Then, in typical New Testament fashion, he associates the significance of baptism with Christ’s resurrection (v. 21), and Christ’s resurrection with his exaltation to “the right hand of God, with angels, authorities, and powers made subject to him” (v. 22).

It is difficult to avoid linking Christ’s proclamation to the spirits in prison with this angelic submission to him. In my view, Christ announced (kerysso, not “evangelized” [euangelizo], as in 1 Pet 1:12, 25; 4:6) the victory he had accomplished on the cross (Col 2:15) to spirits that had been put in “chains of deepest darkness to be kept until the judgment” (2 Pet 2:4).47 It was his first official act as the new ruler of this once enslaved planet, and the act whereby their submission to him became explicit.

The second passage is only slightly less controversial regarding the theme of Christ’s “descent.” It is found in Ephesians 4:7-10.

But each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift. Therefore it is said:

“When he ascended on high he made captivity itself a captive; he gave gifts to his people.”

(When it says, “He ascended,” what does it mean but that he also descended into the lower parts of the earth? He who descended is the same one who ascended far above all the heavens, so that he might fill all things.)

What is indisputable about this passage is that Paul is illustrating Christ’s victory over his enemies at the resurrection and ascension by drawing an illustration from Psalm 68. The fundamental point of the passage is to liken Christ’s ascension after he conquered his enemies on the cross to David’s ascent on Mount Zion after he conquered his enemies (see Ps 68:11-18). The reasoning of the passage is that Christ’s victorious ascension, like David’s, presupposes a warring “descension.” Christ descended into battle, and he ascended victorious, “leading captives in [his] train” (Ps 68:18). Like a victorious king, he divided the spoils of his conquest among those in his kingdom—“he gave gifts to his people” (Eph 4:8).

This much is not disputed, and it is itself enough to demonstrate that this passage provides one more illustration of the centrality of the warfare motif for the New Testament’s understanding of the significance of the cross and resurrection.48 There is, however, a good amount of scholarly debate concerning what exactly Christ’s “descent” refers to, and what “the lower parts of the earth” refers to. Again, to speak most generally, three interpretations have been offered.49

First, some take “the lower parts of the earth” to be simply a reference to the earth, and hence interpret the descent Paul is speaking of as Christ’s incarnation.50 But an increasing number of noteworthy scholars have argued that the “descent” refers to the descent of the Holy Spirit after Christ’s victorious ascension.51 The view most rooted in the church tradition, however, is that the descent refers to Christ’s descent into Hades.52 It is, in my estimation, also the view most rooted in the evidence. While I again cannot begin to explore all the issues surrounding these different interpretations, five considerations are worth briefly mentioning.

First, in the context of Hellenistic thought, Paul’s phrase katotera mere tes ges (“lower earthly realms”) is most easily taken as a reference to the “underworld.”53 Second, that this phrase stands in contrast to the place where Christ ascended, “far above all the heavens,” suggests that he is referring to a place which is antithetical to this (viz., the lowest regions).54 Third, as Dunn notes, the genitive following mere (“realms”) “most naturally denotes the whole to which the parts belong—parts of the earth, rather than parts which are the earth.”55 This again argues against the descent being simply to earth, whether as incarnate Son or as Spirit.

Fourth, and more decisively, this reading closely parallels Romans 10:6-7, which explicitly contrasts the ascent with Christ’s descent “into the abyss” (abyssos), a term that elsewhere always refers to hell (Lk 8:31; Rev 9:1-2, 11; 11:7; 17:8; 20:1, 3). This parallel renders it extremely likely that this is what is intended by the descent and ascent pattern in Ephesians, especially if one grants the Pauline authorship of Ephesians. That this reading also parallels 1 Peter 3:18-19 quite closely (on the reading I have argued for) adds a bit more weight to reading Ephesians 4:8-9 as referring to a descent into Hades.

Finally, and perhaps most significantly, the Hades interpretation alone parallels what we have seen is the common New Testament pattern of intimately linking the death and resurrection of Christ with the subjection of God’s foes. Just as the resurrection carries with it the prior thought of his death, so here, according to Dunn, “the assertion of his ascension (a formulation determined by the quotation from Ps. 68.18) carries with it the thought of his (prior) descent into the place of the dead.”56

All of this links perfectly, according to the New Testament pattern, with seeing Christ as taking principalities and powers captive. Following the pattern of Colossians 2:15, the death and resurrection of Christ are understood to bring about the subjection of all powers that formerly enslaved people, a view that, incidentally, is strongly supported by the fact that Paul had previously talked of Christ’s exaltation over the enslaving powers (1:21-22; cf. 2:2).57 While no systematic account can be deduced from such vague references as we have in Ephesians and 1 Peter, it seems that after his death Christ somehow descended into hell and enslaved all his enemies, viz., all who had formerly enslaved humanity.

Hugo Odeberg summarizes this interpretation well in a manner that discloses its continuity with both the cosmic warfare and cosmic redemption motifs of the New Testament:

Christ’s descent has a cosmical, universal import. To save mankind he must grapple with and become victor over, vanquish, the cosmical powers and the evil agencies in their totality and he must pursue them into the farthest recesses of their activity. He must, hence, go beyond the surface-world, in which fallen mankind dwells, to the depths of Darkness, the utmost sphere of the authority of evil.58

Redeemed from slavery. Finally, one of the most frequent and fundamental ways in which the New Testament depicts our salvation as a freeing consequence of Christ’s cosmic victory over Satan is by referring to it as “redemption” (Rom 3:24; 8:23; 1 Cor 1:30; Eph 1:7, 14; 4:30; Col 1:12; Heb 9:12; Tit 2:14; 1 Pet 1:18-19; Rev 14:3).59 The root of this term lytron means a “ransom” or “price of release,” and the term “redemption” (apolytrosis) was “almost a technical term in the ancient world for the purchase or manumission of a slave.”60 As applied to believers in the New Testament, it implies that our salvation consists fundamentally in being freed from a form of slavery.

According to the New Testament, we are set free from slavery to sin and guilt (Rom 6:7, 18-20; Col 1:22; Heb 9:15; Rev 1:5) as well as from the law as a way of trying to acquire righteousness before God (Rom 3:20-21; Gal 2:16, 19-21; 5:1). But the most fundamental reality we are set free from is the devil.61 We were slaves to sin and condemnation primarily because we were slaves to Satan. In “redeeming us” out of this slavery, in rescuing us out of this kingdom (Col 1:13; Gal 1:4), Christ in principle bought us out of every other form of slavery as well. The price of this redemption, Peter tells us, was “not . . . perishable things like silver or gold, but . . . the precious blood of Christ” (1 Pet 1:18). For this reason as well, Jesus himself describes his life as a “ransom” (lytros, Mk 10:45; Mt 20:28; cf. 1 Tim 2:6; Heb 9:15).

Of course, we need not accept all, or any, of the extravagant and sometimes crude ways the postapostolic church attempted to explain how, and to whom, this ransom was paid.62 We need not, for example, construe this redemption as God literally “buying off” Satan with Christ’s life (and then taking it back?). The thrust of Scripture is only to say this much: Christ was willing to do whatever it took—to pay whatever “price” was necessary—in order to defeat the tyrant who had enslaved us and thereby to set us free. What it took, the New Testament teaches, was nothing less than the Son of God becoming a man and dying a hellish death upon the cross.

In some mysterious way, this event “disarmed,” “drove out,” “tied up,” “condemned” and “destroyed” the “god of this age” who had held us in slavery (Col 2:15; Jn 12:31; 16:11; 2 Cor 4:4; Heb 2:14). It thereby enthroned the Son of God as rightful king of his Father’s universe, which is where he was eternally destined to be. And it therefore spelled freedom, liberation, redemption and complete salvation for all those previously enslaved subjects who were willing to receive it. Indeed, it shall ultimately reestablish us as the lords over the earth we were always meant to be.

The cross and resurrection, then, were not first and foremost about us. They were about overcoming evil. From a New Testament perspective, evil is something much greater, much more powerful and much more pervasive than what transpires in our relatively small lives, on our relatively small segment of the cosmos, by means of our relatively small wills. This is not to suggest that we are ourselves not evil, for the New Testament unequivocally concludes that, apart from Christ, we are. We were, indeed, “dead through [our] trespasses” (Eph 2:1). Hence we were in desperate need for a high priest to enter into the sanctuary and offer up a perfect sacrifice to atone for our sins (Rom 8:34; Heb 7:25; 10:10-14; 1 Jn 2:2). Christ made this offering, effecting our salvation to the glory of God the Father.

But Christ did this only because he did something even more fundamental, as we have seen: he dealt a death blow to Satan and recaptured his rightful rule over the whole creation. This is, first and foremost, what Jesus’ ministry, death and resurrection are all about. Evil can be overcome in our life only because the “evil one” who previously ruled the cosmos has himself in principle been overcome. We are set free only because the entire cosmos has in principle been set free from the one who had previously enslaved it. And we are reconciled to God only because the entire cosmos, and the whole of the spiritual realm, has in principle been reconciled to God.

What pertains to us most is that we are forgiven. Thus it is natural that Scripture, and therefore our preaching, focuses a great deal on this crucial dimension of Christ’s work. But to try to make this the primary, let alone exhaustive, significance of Jesus’ death and resurrection is to miss the cosmic dimension of God’s solution to the problem of evil; it is to miss the cosmic dimension of the problem of evil itself; and it is to miss the cosmic dimension of the church’s calling to revolt against all forms of evil in order to demonstrably proclaim Jesus’ victory over them.

Concerning the New Testament’s view of “salvation” James Kallas concludes:

since the cosmos itself is in bondage, depressed under evil forces, the essential content of the word “salvation” is that the world itself will be rescued, or renewed, or set free. Salvation is a cosmic event affecting the whole of creation. It is not simply the internal renewal of man’s religious attitude. . . . Salvation is not simply the overcoming of my rebellion and the forgiveness of my guilt, but salvation is the liberation of the whole world process of which I am only a small part.63

When this cosmic dimension is lost, Kallas continues, salvation comes “to be seen as a personal affair, an individual thing.” It is, he insists, an “egocentric” interpretation. “In the deepest sense,” Kallas continues, “God is [here] denied any independent existence—he exists only to serve and to save man, a celestial errand runner.”64 This is precisely what he believes has happened with the classic Protestant substitutionary understanding of the atonement.

When we view redemption theocentrically rather than anthropocentrically, however, and when we therefore see human salvation as an aspect of a universal cosmic restoration, we see both God’s glory and humanity’s redemption in the most exalted terms imaginable.