The early church firmly maintained only one orthodox understanding of Christ’s person – Christ as fully human and fully divine. However, the early church never insisted upon one orthodox understanding of Christ’s work. This was a wise move. There is only one Jesus and he is who he is. However, biblical revelation speaks of Christ’s atoning work in a variety of different ways. Privileging one understanding over another diminishes, rather than honors, the multi-faceted glory of God’s atoning work in Christ through the Spirit.

In his book, King, Priest, and Prophet: A Trinitarian Theology of Atonement, Robert Sherman seeks to integrate the various understandings of atonement. He refuses to allow one model of the atonement to overshadow or exclude other models. The Biblical testimony and church tradition offer “several diverse but complementary understandings of the atonement” (5). In his book, he incorporates the triple lens of king, priest, and prophet to integrate the various atonement models. He summarizes his thesis in the following way:

One can understand adequately neither Christ’s multifaceted reconciliation of a complex humanity to God nor that reconciliation’s fundamental unity as God’s gracious act apart from the Trinity. Without this framework one will likely stress one person of the Trinity, one aspect of God’s reconciling work, and/or one understanding of the human predicament to the exclusion of the others and the detriment of theology, both systematic and pastoral. As one faithful and useful way to guard against such tunnel vision, I suggest that theology should recognize a certain correspondence and mutual support between the three persons of the Trinity, the three offices of Christ, and the three commonly recognized models of his atoning work. (9)

What is Atonement?

Prior to its status as a technical theological term, the English word, “atonement” was first employed by William Tyndale to translate katallage – the Greek word for “reconciliation.” His emphasis was on the “at-one-ment” effected by God in Christ. The word describes “what has occurred between humanity and God, but on its own does not necessarily connote how it has occurred” (10). In order to adequately answer the question, “What is atonement?” we must ask the more fundamental question, “What is the problem of humanity’s alienation or estrangement or separation for which Christ’s atoning work is the solution?” (10)

The problem is understood from a threefold perspective – human bondage to external powers of evil, internal impurity through human sinfulness, and tragic human limitations that arise from life in a fallen world. First, the problem is external to us: we are “held in bondage by powers in some sense external to us and greater than we are” (12). Secondly, our problem is also internal: “We are not so much victims of evil as perpetrators of evil” (13). Thirdly, our problem arises from our finite “fallen” context and inherent human limitations that leave us weak, ignorant, and lost. All of these things separate us from God and call for atonement – at-one-ment.

Atonement fully answers the human problem. In the Son and through the Spirit, God the Father overcomes our external bondage to evil powers, our internal sinfulness due to our own pride, selfishness, and lust, and our inherent human limitations manifest in our ignorance, weakness, and waywardness.

Sherman refuses to privilege any one problem (bondage, sinfulness, tragic limitations), any one Person of the Trinity (Father, Son, Spirit), or any one model of atonement (Christus victor, vicarious sacrifice, empowering exemplar/revealer). His hope is to integrate every one of these items in order to provide a sufficiently broad framework with which to comprehend God’s atoning work. The mediating role of prophet, priest, and king is the integrative key that holds it all together.

All three roles – prophet, priest, and king – “served a central mediatorial function in God’s relation to Israel, and as such… retain a certain priority when interpreting Christ as the divinely incarnate Mediator” (9). Later in the book, he further expands this thought:

[E]ach of these offices were meant to complement the others in serving a mediatorial function between God and the covenant people. God’s transcendent majesty and righteousness and glory precluded a direct encounter with him (as Exod 33:20 states, no one can see God’s face and live); a mediator was needed. Thus, Israel’s kings mediated the sovereignty and power of God, the priests mediated the holiness and forgiveness of God, and the prophets mediated the truth and commands of God (107).

Anointing served as the inaugural sign for all three offices (1 Kings 19:16; Exodus 28:41, 29:7-9; Lev. 8; 1 Sam. 9:15-17, 27-10:1; 15:1; 16:1, 11-13). According to New Testament revelation, Christ both fulfilled and redefined each office in crucial ways. One obvious way he did this is by integrating them all in his own person. Jesus is not only king of kings, but priest of priests, and prophet of prophets.

All these various themes (the human problem of bondage, sinfulness, and tragic limitations; the Christus victor, vicarious sacrifice, and empowering exemplar models of atonement; and the three persons of the Trinity, Father, Son, and Spirit) come together at Jesus’ baptism – “the event that inaugurated Jesus’ acceptance of his threefold office” (106). A unified act of the Triune God results in the anointing of Jesus, who identifies completely with fallen humanity in his act of baptism. By the Spirit, God anoints Jesus to all three offices: prophet, priest, and king. Thus begins Jesus’ fulfillment and redefinition of each office in his words and works to follow. This is clearly evident in the temptation account that immediately follows Jesus’ baptism.

As prophet, Jesus holds to God’s truth and interprets God’s word correctly. He rejects the devil’s deceptions and remains faithful to God’s will.

The temptation accounts may be likened to a contest of “dueling proof texts” between Satan and Jesus. Each time Satan tempts Jesus with a self-serving reference from Scripture, Jesus counters with one more appropriate to his anointed mission – his tripartite mission. In this sense, he is being true not only to himself, but to the Father and Spirit. (113)

As priest, Jesus rejects special privilege and embraces God’s call to self-sacrifice. By doing this, he sets the stage for his ultimate self-sacrifice on the cross. As king, Jesus rejects all earthly conceptions of sovereignty. His kingdom will be inaugurated and established in a different way with a different power than the kingdoms of the earth.

Jesus the King

“Jesus is Lord” is the earliest Christian confession (Acts 10:36; Rom. 10:9; 1 Cor. 8:6, 12:3; Phil. 2:11). In Trinitarian terms, “the Son is king, but he is such as the Father’s regent, and the power he wields is that of the Holy Spirit” (117). The confession evidences his triumph over all powers. To say “Jesus is Lord” is “to recognize that no one or nothing else can be sovereign, that any pretenders to this title have been unmasked and deposed” (118). Christ triumphs over all powers that would enslave humanity – sin, demonic forces, and death (Heb. 2:14-15).

Throughout his ministry, he demonstrates a “regal indifference to ‘worldly’ powers” (118-119). He is clearly unintimidated by the powers that be.

[T]he certainty with which he exercises that power and authority shows Jesus to be unintimidated by the powers of this world, whether human or demonic. One notes this attitude especially in his response to Herod's scheming (Luke 13:31-32), his cleansing of the Temple (Matt 21:12-13 // Mark 11:15-19 // Luke 19:45-48; cf. John 2:13-17), his shrewd response on the matter of paying tribute to Caesar (Matt 22:15-22 // Mark 12:13-17 // Luke 20:20-26), his indictment of the “ruler of this world” (John 12:28-31), and his conversation with Pilate (John 18:33-38). He is secure in his sovereignty. (127)

Israel’s kings were called to be obedient to God’s commands (1 Kings 2:3). It was the “king’s duty to serve as the guardian of true and faithful worship” (137). He was called to be a “guardian of Israel’s common good and the social requirements of the law” (138) by defending widows and orphans (e.g., 2 Sam. 14:4-11), correcting injustice (2 Sam. 12:1-6), and judging hard cases (1 Kings 3:16-28). Like a good shepherd, “the king was to serve and foster the well-being of the people as a whole” (139).

Jesus both fulfilled and redefined the role of king. His lordship was demonstrated in lowly service to others (John 13:1-5). Unlike former kings who “abused their position for their own gain and neglected the needs of the people” Jesus used his position for the good of all people. He rejected the harsh and oppressive exploitation of former kings – kings who added a “heavy yoke” to their subjects (1 Kings 12:11). Instead, he called his subjects to come unto him for rest. He promised that his yoke was easy and light (Matt 11:28-30).

Without compromise, Jesus rejected (and thus overcame and disarmed) the powers and principalities of this world.

Perhaps the single most telling point one may make about the kingdom that Christ proclaims and inaugurates is that it displays none of the characteristics typically associated with worldly kingdoms. Indeed, it turns such characteristics upside down. The reign that Christ announces belongs not to the powerful or influential, but to the “poor” (Matt 5:3), the “poor in spirit” (Luke 6:20), and those “persecuted for righteousness’ sake” (Matt 5:10). Its attainment requires neither ambition nor accomplishment, but a “letting go” and a radical reorientation: it can only be received “like a child” (Matt 18:3 // Mark 10:15 // Luke 18:17), indeed, one must be “born again” to even recognize it (John 3:3). While wealth in the world typically opens doors of opportunity and privilege that are closed to the impoverished, in the kingdom of God wealth will function in just the opposite way, acting as a barrier rather than an aid to admittance (Matt 19:23-24 // Mark 10:23-25 // Luke 18:24-26). Indeed, the kingdom of heaven radically undermines the world’s typical understandings of merit, fairness, and just compensation (Matt 20:1-16), and reorders the world’s typical priorities (Matt 6:31-33 // Luke 12:29-31). And in a similar vein, this kingdom will not emerge through the usual and obvious means, through force of arms or the political scheming of the powerful or family connections. Rather, it will spring from the humblest of beginnings, like a mustard seed (Matt 13:31-32 // Mark 4:30-32 // Luke 13:18-19), and work with a hidden, even mysterious power, like leaven (Matt 13:33 // Luke 13:20). Indeed, one must finally acknowledge that the kingdom Christ inaugurates “is not of this world” (John 18:36).

In other words, throughout his parables and sayings, Christ the King relativizes and redefines all nondivine assumptions about power and authority, about how the world was to be ruled, and who was to be construed as the most worthy subjects. Jesus rejected being made “king” according to the popular view (see John 6:15), and he refused to take the armed option (see Matt 26:51-54). (143-144).

Jesus is a good and benevolent king – humble, gentle, kind, just, and merciful. He rejects self-serving ends and oppressive power. His glory is manifest in common acts of service and self-sacrifice for others. The glory ascribed to Jesus in John 1:14 is “the glory of one who washes the feet of his disciples, is lifted up on the cross, and only through the trial of death is elevated to the glory that is reigning with the Father” (148).

If we desire to submit to Jesus’ reign, our expressions of power will resemble his. We are called to “demonstrate the same humility, compassion, forbearance, benevolence, and service toward others that Christ himself showed” (161). Our power must be expressed in the same way.

If it does not, then it cannot truly be an exercise of Christ’s divine power, nor may it legitimately claim to be Christian. Indeed, if it fails to reflect Christ’s lead, it thereby demonstrates its source in another, worldly power, and perhaps even allegiance to a sinister lord. (161-162)

Jesus the Priest

As the sovereign king, Christ saves us from evil powers that threaten our existence. But this alone does not address the whole of the human problem. We are not separated from God solely because of our bondage to “powers and principalities.” We are also separated from God because of our own human failings and transgressions – our personal sin.

As priest, Christ mediates between God and humanity in order to make provision to repair and purify relationships broken by sin. This is in accordance with God’s gracious provision of the priesthood and sacrificial system.

“Sacrifice, according to the Israelite and earliest Christian conceptions, is not something human beings do for God (propitiation), but something God does for humankind (expiation).” That is, in the biblical view, sacrifice is not a human attempt to “buy off” a bullying god or assuage an angry god; rather, it is a divine gift enabling that which humans cannot bring about on their own. (173)

Christ’s priesthood fulfills and redefines the role. The vicarious sacrifice of Christ truly expiates (or covers) sin and is patterned after “three complementary rituals, namely, ‘purgation’ sacrifices (NRSV: ‘sin offerings’), ‘reparation’ sacrifices (NRSV: ‘guilt offerings”), and the scapegoat ritual of the Day of Atonement” (184).

This purging aspect of sacrifice is not the only aspect of sacrifice under the law. In fact, there were many types of sacrifices under the Old Covenant. Christ’s sacrifice is also patterned after the first-fruit sacrifices and communion sacrificial meals of the law. As the fullness and redefinition of the first-fruit offering, the vicarious sacrifice of Christ not only cleanses us from our sin but positions us for renewal.

Apart from the virtually universal status that attaches to anything that is first, the first fruits also possess the special practical importance of being that which represents renewal and continuing life: a new harvest represents one more season of survival. It means that one is no longer dependent simply on one’s prior resources. It signals, symbolically and sometimes in actuality, that one may “break the fast” because a new crop has arrived. (178)

Christ’s sacrifice also fulfills and redefines the communion offering.

Consider next the manner in which Christ as priest fulfills and transforms the sacrifice understood as a communal meal shared with God for the purpose of forging or maintaining a covenant. Any vestigial assumption that the worshipper must supply the food for God (cf. Lev 21:6 and Num 28:2-3) is now clearly reversed: it is the priest himself who supplies the food and drink, in the form of his own sacrificial blood and body (1 Cor 11:23-26; Mark 14:22-24; Matt 26:26-28; Luke 22:14-20). The initiative is God’s, and the emphasis no longer focuses on the duties of the worshipper but on the graciousness of the divine act. (187-188)

Sherman confronts two arguments often used to undermine vicarious sacrifice. Some assume that Christ’s sacrifice is intended to provide a model for us to imitate. As such, it is deemed to encourage abuse, victimhood, and injustice. In order to counter this, we must remember that Christ’s sacrifice is a “once for all” act. It is a historic one-time act; it is not the basis to establish a universal principle of sacrifice that we all must achieve.

Specifically, it is important to stress the “once and for all” character of Christ’s sacrifice. Stated simply, because our reconciliation to God has been effected by Christ’s passion and death, it does not demand our own. Faithfully following the risen Lord may result in persecution or even martyrdom, as evidenced by the early church and contemporary Christians in hostile environments today, but does not require it. Thus, it is simply wrong to claim that suffering as such is a Christian virtue. (211)

Christ’s sacrifice does not provide us with a universal principle, but rather, a historic world-changing event.

The sacrifice of Christ is not something a human does to placate an angry God; rather, it is something a gracious God does to subvert human manipulation and self-righteous violence. Thus, Christ’s sacrifice does not offer us a mythological model or principle to emulate. Rather, it is a once and for all event that forever alters how we relate to God and understand our own fundamental existence. (196)

When the historical import of Christ’s vicarious sacrifice is undermined, then we are only left with its example. This is the mistake of allowing Idealistic philosophy to intrude upon the reading of the biblical narrative.

Indeed, the mistake of reading the scriptural narrative through the lens of idealism echoes the error of Pelagianism, insofar as it understands the Bible (and especially Christ) as offering us an archetype to imitate, a “model” to follow, or a general principle to unpack. It reads the biblical stories as if they were simply representing in mythological form the timeless truths that are the ideals of Christian thought and action. (211)

Another argument often used to undermine vicarious sacrifice is that sacrificial language is outdated and irrelevant to modern people. Sherman proves that this is not the case by providing a whole catalogue of ways (“blood brothers,” “blood oath,” “blood money,” among others) that “blood” is used in contemporary speech to give weightiness to our language. “When ‘blood’ is invoked, the matter is not trivial, it is serious, indeed, often a matter of life and death. Perhaps I only need recall the recent advertising slogan used by the American Red Cross in its search for donors: ‘Give the gift of life-give blood’” (209).

Christ’s sacrifice is a unified act of the triune God. As such, it reveals the very heart of God.

It is still one undivided act of the triune God, based on the one unified divine will, and made available through the one unified divine action. In this regard, I reject any construal that suggests the Son’s will and work somehow counters and finally alters the Father’s will and intentions. Christ’s sacrifice does not “change the Father's mind,” as if the latter would vent his wrath on humanity were it not for the former’s intervention. Rather, Christ serves as the Father’s instrument, enacting in humanity through the Holy Spirit’s power the common mind, will, and purpose of the one God. (210-11)

Christ’s vicarious sacrifice is a sacrifice from love (John 3:16) that is motivated by love (John 15:13) and reveals love (Romans 5:8; 1 John 4:9-10). It liberates us from our past by purging us from our sin and purifying us for a relationship with God.

Christ’s death on the cross “breaks” history: it is a new event, which enables persons to leave behind the past and begin a new future. It ends the tyranny of the endlessly recurring cycles that seem so often to dominate life – or at least our ways of conceiving life – and offers a real alternative and a fresh start. (215)

The good news of Christ’s vicarious sacrifice is that our sin does not “finally determine who we are, for we have been pardoned and cleansed by Christ’s priestly sacrifice” (277).

Sherman weaves all these themes together in his closing comments concerning Christ’s sacrifice:

Scripture certainly recognizes Christ’s death to be an expiating sacrifice for sin. But it also understands it as a sacrifice of “first fruits” and a means of redefining and reestablishing divine-human communion. In these understandings, the psychological emphasis is not on our guilt, it is not on a sense of our personal unworthiness, it is not on the sense of the indebtedness and obligation we should feel toward Christ for his sacrificial death. Rather, the emphasis should be on the manner in which, by means of his sacrifice, Christ claims us as his own, bestows us with his pledge of new and abundant life, and opens to us a gracious communion with God we would not otherwise have. In this understanding of Christ’s death, we are encouraged not to look behind us in regret at our own shortcomings, but forward in joy and confidence on the basis of what becomes available to us in Christ, the firstborn from the dead, the firstborn of the new creation. For the discerning pastor, it should also be evident that Christ's royal victory complements and may help reinforce this understanding of Christ’s priestly sacrifice. (273)

Jesus the Prophet

As king, Christ delivers us from the evil “powers and principalities” that oppress us. As priest, Christ delivers us from our own personal sin that indwells and restrains us. But, the human problem goes even deeper. We need deliverance from the weakness and ignorance that arises, not from human sin, but from our own inherent human limitations in a fallen context. In other words, we need meaning, purpose, and truth to save us from meaninglessness and despair. As prophet, Jesus leads us in the way of truth, meaning, and purpose – a way that corresponds to ultimate reality, to God.

Jesus is a prophet (Luke 13:33; Mark 6:15). As a prophet, he holds a teaching office. Throughout the gospels, Jesus is called teacher and rabbi by friend and foe alike. His followers are his disciples, his students. Furthermore, “what he actually said and did – his calls to repentance, his condemnations of hypocrisy, his summons to true faithfulness, his symbolic acts, as well as his healings and miracles – clearly match many elements of the ‘prophetic profile’” (224).

But Jesus is much more than a prophet. The transfiguration accounts in the synoptic gospels evidence this to be true (Matt. 17:1-8; Mark 9:2-8; Luke 9:28-36). When compared to the great prophets of the past – Moses and Elijah – God sets him apart as his own unique beloved Son and gives him primacy: “Listen to him.” One way this was demonstrated was “his stance of authority over, and in crucial respects, autonomy from the law” (224). “Intriguingly, he demonstrates his authority over the law not just in tightening it, but in loosening it” (225).

Since Jesus is more than a prophet, it is not possible to place him in the same camp as other noteworthy religious, spiritual, or historic figures. His own prophetic teaching forbids diminishing him to such a level. Jesus is not just “one who is able to keep company with a select group of other admirable, historic figures… such characterizations present a person whom one may respect, but perhaps also ignore” (242).

Jesus is God’s unique prophet who teaches words of life and light. His teaching, when followed, is meant to lead us into the Spirit’s power, life, and love. He is the empowering exemplar of God’s kingdom. When integrated with the Christ’s atoning work as king and priest, Christ’s work as prophet takes on its most complete and transforming power. In this regard, Sherman advocates

a soteriological correspondence to the theological place of the Holy Spirit “after” the Father and the Son… That is, now that the principalities and powers have been defeated, now that the pollution of human sin and guilt has been washed away, the new creation can take root and grow. (250)

Conclusion

When all three aspects of atonement (Christus victor, vicarious sacrifice, and empowering exemplar) are integrated together, our deepest problems – oppression by evil powers, the guilt and stain of human sin, and the ignorance, despair, and meaningless that arise from human limitations – are fully and finally addressed. As king, Jesus liberates us. As priest, Jesus purifies us. As prophet, Jesus leads us in the way of truth, life, and love. All of these actions comprise God’s atoning work in Christ through the Spirit.

© Richard J. Vincent, 2005