Resurrection Light: The Grace of Divine Judgment

Excerpts from Jürgen Moltmann’s The Crucified God are interspersed throughout this essay.

In previous classes, we talked about the crucifixion. In the Christian narrative, the crucifixion of Christ demonstrates the judgment of God. The death of Jesus on the cross is the wages he paid for our sins. The Lamb of God carried the sins of the world onto himself to deliver us from death. Through his death, we have been saved; we have been proclaimed righteous. He fulfilled the promises of God and offered us eternal life.

This brings us to an important question: What is the point of the resurrection? Jesus, through his death, fulfilled the legal obligation that sin carries towards God. The finality of what he has done was clarified on the cross before he gave up the spirit when he said: It is done, it is finished. But then we are faced with an important question: Why resurrect? 

This question is often overlooked. The crucifixion and resurrection of Christ are usually treated as a single, unified event in the narrative of salvation. Yet I believe this is a mistake, because the crucifixion and the resurrection are not synonymous—they achieve different and essential functions. We know this because no one expected the sacrificial lambs to resurrect after being slaughtered at the temple altar. So the question of why Jesus resurrected, and what His resurrection achieved, becomes a central question of Christian theology.

To administer God’s judgment and to save us from our sins, Jesus only had to die. Yet it turns out that His resurrection serves another, grandeur purpose. The judgment of Christ brought about darkness, earthquakes, and the tearing apart of the temple veil [of the Holy of Holies]. The resurrection brings about the light of God: 

On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.” Then they remembered his words.

When they came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the Eleven and to all the others. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others with them who told this to the apostles. But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense. Peter, however, got up and ran to the tomb. Bending over, he saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened. (Luke 24″1-12)

Here we first see the empty tomb. A tomb is meant to house the dead and the rotting. That was why the women brought spices—to anoint the corpse and suppress the smell. But an empty tomb defeats the very purpose it was built for.

Then the women encounter two men in clothes that lit up like lightning. Although lightning is not as intense as the sun, it can appear far brighter on earth because it is much closer. The intense and sudden brightness seemed to blind the women and filled them with awe, driving them to the ground.

This is where the story of the resurrection begins: an empty tomb and intense light.

We have previously seen that the light of God is his glory and his grace. These three words—light, glory, and grace—are used interchangeably in Scripture when referring to God. The light of the resurrection reveals the grace of God; it ushers in a new beginning, a new covenant. As it turns out, the resurrection changes everything!

To help us understand what the resurrection means, I’ll enlist the help of Jürgen Moltmann, a German Reformed theologian who just passed away last year. Moltmann had profound insights about the crucifixion and resurrection. Unfortunately, his writing is not easy to read.

When we think of religion, especially in the modern world, we often associate it with judgment, fear, and apocalyptic warnings—a looming sense that everything is unraveling toward a destructive end. But the resurrection offers a different vision. Christianity’s story of the end is not one of collapse, but of transformation. It does not merely point to a final reckoning, but to a radical renewal already breaking into the present. This is not a general feature of religion—it is something unique to the Christian faith.

Here is Moltmann:

As the New Testament shows, not only in the epistles but also in the gospels, Christian faith essentially reads the history of Jesus back to front, from the end to the beginning; this means that the cross is understood in the light of his resurrection, his way to the cross in the light of the saving meaning of his cross, his words and miracles in the light of the Easter exaltation to be Lord. Even his insignificant birth is recalled and narrated in light of his crucifixion. Therefore, the end of Christ was his beginning.

Let’s unpack this. The resurrection gave voice, courage, and energy to the early church. It became the foundation of Christian faith and joy—the joy that formed the Church. Moltmann writes: “Earlier Christian recollections of Jesus from the start sprang from the experience of his resurrection through God. That was the only reason why his words and his story were remembered and why people were concerned with him. Even today, it is hard to imagine that we would be concerned with Jesus as a historical figure because his message had already been contradicted by his death on the cross. As a person at the heart of an eschatological faith and proclamation, on the other hand, he becomes a mystery and a question for every new age.

The epistles of Paul, the earliest writings of the New Testament, make this clear. Paul says in I Cor.15.14. ‘If Christ is not risen, then our preaching is vain, and your faith is vain’. But that is not limited to the epistles, the entire New Testament, encompassing the gospels, the acts of the apostles, and even Revelation, is written with the light of the resurrection. What that means for Christianity is something we have all underestimated. “Even today, our reading of the New Testament will only make sense if we read it in this light.” When we do so, we begin to understand things on a different level. One thing that I will point out for you is the insignificant birth of Jesus that is now probably the biggest religious holiday of the world. The joy of Christmas that everyone seems to feel, whether they are Christians or not, whether they are religious or not, is the joy of the resurrection, it is the joy of Grace. 

The resurrection didn’t merely add a new chapter to our story—it rewrote the whole narrative. It altered the course of history and reframed our relationship with God, initiating a fresh covenant grounded in divine life rather than law. Before we can appreciate the radical nature of this new covenant, however, we need to understand the framework it replaces: the old covenant, which at its core hinges on the righteousness of God.

As it turns out, this is the center question of religion: why do good people suffer while bad people prosper? Who will give justice to the innocent and helpless man killed by the rich and powerful or the lawless lawbreaker? Where is God’s righteousness in here? Religion answers this through apocalyptic expectations. The apocalypse is the moment when God’s righteousness prevails. At the end of time, all the dead will be raised for final judgment. God will judge everyone according to their deeds written in the book of life. That is justice. The righteousness of God is upheld when some are assigned to eternal life and others to eternal shame. The apocalyptists ask: “Why are you focused on the present when you have not considered what is to come?” Their answer emphasizes the future rather than the present. Therefore, religious apocalyptic expectations are not a longing for eternal life. “Resurrection of the dead” is a symbol that expresses belief in the righteousness of God. The righteousness of God cannot be limited even by death. So, God will summon both dead and living before his judgment seat. But that is only possible if he has raised the dead beforehand, so they can identify themselves with the deeds and omissions of their earthly life at his judgment. But the question we now face is: is this symbol of the general resurrection of the dead a symbol of hope? For the unrighteous it is rather a symbol of fear. It would be better for them to stay dead. But for the righteous is an uncertain hope, for no one can say with certainty that s/he is righteous. Therefore, this symbol of the Resurrection of the dead is a symbol of hope not for us but for God, for the sake of God and his righteousness. 

We fail to see this properly, but this is the answer of most religions to questions of history, time, and God’s righteousness. This is the answer that most Christian churches also give to these issues. Under this answer, history serves as a repertoire of my sins and other people’s sins; my past that lives in history is what will speak against me during the future event of the apocalypse. My relationship with time is limited to my past and the future. The hope I can have for the future is uncertain, that is, if I can even manage to have any hope at all. My relationship to God is legalistic, bound to a code, a law. This is important in order to uphold the righteousness of the creator. 

The problem we face now is that the resurrection of Jesus does not fit within the apocalyptic narrative. First, we must recognize that Jesus is fully human and fully divine—before and after the resurrection. The risen Christ is not a different person from the crucified one. He is one and the same.

This complicates the apocalyptic story. As a human, Jesus was not just any man. Jesus was condemned according to his people’s understanding of the law as a ‘blasphemer’ and was crucified by the Romans, according to the divine ordinance of their Pax Romana, as a ‘rebel’. He met a hellish death with every sign of being abandoned by his God and Father. The scandal of Easter was not that some man or other was raised before anyone else, but that the one who was raised was this condemned, executed, and forsaken man. If we accept Jesus to be the Lamb of God that carries the sins of humanity, then Jesus the man is the biggest sinner there is, and the apocalyptic understanding of his death will only lead him to the depths of hell by the law. 

Yet, God resurrected Jesus from the dead. It is important to emphasize that the resurrection of Jesus is different than the resurrection of other dead people, such as Lazurus. Even though Lazurus was resurrected by Jesus, he still died again. But this is not the case with Jesus Christ. Easter faith can never mean that the dead Jesus returned to this life, which will lead to death again. The symbol of ‘resurrection from the dead’ means a qualitatively new life which no longer knows death and therefore cannot be a continuation of this mortal life. ‘Christ being raised from the dead will never die again’ says Paul in Rom6.9. Resurrection destroys the power of death. This is the explanation for the triumphant declaration of Paul (1 Corinthians 15:55-58): Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

What Moltmann is doing is to draw a sharp distinction between two very different ways of imagining what comes “after” death. The first is the symbol we get when we read about the “resurrection of the dead” in apocalyptic texts. This is “Life after death”, which implies immortality of the soul. In many religions (and in ancient Greek philosophy), the human soul is thought to survive the body’s death and continue in some higher realm. This idea still locates death as a dividing line: you die, then you enter another form of existence. The second symbol is the “resurrection from the dead”, which is what the resurrection of Jesus achieved. When God raised Jesus from the dead, death itself has been conquered. Death’s power has been undone and a new kind of life breaks into history. If resurrection were merely a “life after death,” then death still holds its place as a boundary: you die, you cross over, then you live on. But in Christian faith, resurrection says: there is no more boundary. Death itself is annihilated (“destroyed” or “overcome”) in the victory of Christ. The resurrection of Christ is the beginning of a reality in which death has already been decisively defeated. This changes everything, it means that we are already living in “eternal” life. The resurrection life, the one that we are currently living in, is not a never-ending bonus you get after you die. It is not about quantity but quality. “Eternal” here isn’t about infinite duration or an infinite quantity of time; it’s about a new kind of life, a different quality. It is the inauguration of God’s “new creation” in which death no longer exists as a force. This life is “eternal” not because it never ends but because it is the start of the new life God will make in heaven, already breaking into ours.

Therefore, we no longer live in regret over the past or fear for the future. The new life and new creation of God is not a future dream—it is our present reality. Our hope, then, is no longer vague or uncertain, but joyful and confident. In the resurrection of Jesus, God’s future has entered our present, and the power of death has already been broken. History is no longer simply moving toward an end—it has been interrupted and given new direction by the resurrection. Christian eschatology (the study of last things) is transformed into a theology of the present.

But now, we have to address the primary question: the righteousness of God. How does the resurrection of Jesus correspond to the righteousness of God? Moltmann redefines God’s righteousness by showing that the resurrection of Jesus unveils a justice that is not grounded in retribution or fairness, but in the radical generosity of grace. Grace, in this vision, is God’s sovereign act of re-creation—the divine initiative to reach into the deepest consequences of sin and death, not merely to forgive, but to resurrect, to justify, and to make new that which stood condemned. It is not a softening of justice but the manifestation of a justice more profound than law: one that restores rather than repays, that creates righteousness where none existed. If God raises from the dead the one who was condemned by both religious and imperial law—executed as a criminal, cursed as a sinner—then that resurrection is not a reversal of justice, but the revelation of a deeper, divine justice: one that gives without conditions and restores without prerequisites. This is grace-rooted righteousness that does not measure, but gives; it does not repay, but redeems. 

Remember that the crucifixion and death of Jesus meant that he took the weight of all our sins. He bore the penalty of the law under the old covenant. Yet by raising this crucified, condemned man—dishonored and stripped of all rights—God inaugurated a new covenant: one grounded not in legal obligation but in boundless grace. The resurrection does not abolish the law, but fulfills it and transforms our relationship to it. In Christ, righteousness is no longer measured by merit or law-keeping but is given freely to the unrighteous through divine favor. This marks a profound shift: righteousness is no longer a transactional system of reward and punishment, but an all-embracing reality of gracious love extended to sinners and the self-righteous alike.

This grace-rooted justice also breaks the vicious cycle of hate and vengeance. Moltmann insists that neither executioners nor victims will have the final word; instead, Christ’s one death—first for the victims, then for their oppressors—wins true victory. Through his resurrection, God’s creative righteousness transforms enemies into a single, reconciled humanity. Only when divine justice becomes this productive, reconciling love—“creating right” for both the lawless and those within the law—does the “true revolution of righteousness” occur.

This responds to an important point Dr. Weaver raised about divine judgment: God could only uphold Her righteousness in raising Jesus from the dead by transforming His divine judgment into grace.

What does all of this mean for us? If death has been defeated and we now live in a new, eternal kind of life, how should that change the way we live? And what about our faith—what should faith look like in light of the resurrection?

David: Very nice talk, Michael. It brings back the old question: why does the Church tend to focus more on the apocalyptic side of things than on the gracious side? It also answered a question I’ve worried about for a long time concerning Jesus’s last words on the cross: “Why hast thou forsaken me?” The resurrection is the obvious answer to that question. God’s answer was: “I have not.”

Carolyn: I’d like to bring up the moment when Jesus said, “It is finished.” We talk about the New Covenant and Jesus’ accomplishments—and how through the resurrection, we have hope and grace. But when I discuss this with people who hold different views, the idea of the New Covenant often emerges in ways that make me uncomfortable. It sometimes feels like we’re saying, “Now we’re in the New Covenant,” without understanding what that fully means. I’d like to explore that more, if we can.

C-J: Carolyn, some people describe that as a shift in dispensations—the old and the new. But Jesus addressed that directly. He said, “I have not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it.” God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. That’s the other side of the dispensational argument. I believe God has never changed. He has always been gracious, always given us opportunities—through our world, our rituals, our environment—to see Him. After Christ, yes, it was finished, fulfilled according to promise. But God has always been loving and present. That’s how I see it. Does that make sense to you?

Carolyn: I’m comfortable with that, especially in the sense that “It is finished” meant Jesus had done everything God had asked Him to do. That’s how I’ve always understood it—He fulfilled everything, and so He said, “It is finished.”

C-J: We also need to remember that Jesus was human in every way. He may have cried out, “Why did you forsake me?” from a very human place. But once He passed through death, everything became clear. Many people who are dying say they see a light—maybe it’s that clarity, that transition. We are spirit beings having a human experience. We’re made in God’s image, and when I die, I don’t know what I’ll look like, but I believe the spirit in me will return to the Father.

Don: That’s some pretty heavy theology, Michael, and very provocative. But it raises an important question: what does all this mean for our daily lives, right now? And to David’s point—why does the Church seem to gravitate more toward the apocalyptic vision than the present-day meaning of the resurrection?

Michael: I’ll explore that question more in our next session. There’s a lot going on in this one already, but we’ll definitely come back to the resurrection.

Don: There’s a sense in which the resurrection is a new creation—a reimagining of the Garden of Eden. It’s like rebooting the operating system, bringing something new out of nothing.

Michael: That resonates with what Revelation says, about the city that is lit by the glory of God, where only the tree of life remains. That’s the new creation, the New Covenant, the new life. It’s different from the apocalyptic vision. We just don’t always see it. But I wonder—does our faith make that vision real? Is it our belief that allows this New Covenant to be realized?

David: Our faith is guided by the Church. I just had a thought: imagine the effect if, overnight, every church sign that now says “Repent!” were changed to “Rejoice!” What a shift in tone that would be—from guilt and doom to redemption and joy. “Repent!” sends you straight into guilt. But “Rejoice!” lifts your focus toward grace. I don’t think Jesus wants us trapped in guilt forever.

Michael: No, and that’s a serious point. I’ll emphasize it more next time. Think about it—this is the final commandment of Jesus before ascending to heaven. The Bible says, “Go and proclaim.” That’s why Christianity isn’t apocalyptic. It’s not a warning about what will happen—it’s a proclamation of what is because of Jesus and His resurrection. It’s a very different kind of faith. But I don’t think that message is always heard. So I’m asking: what should we be doing to make that God-vision a reality?

C-J: Humans have a way of falling into “I’m right, you’re wrong” thinking. That karmic idea of judgment and punishment. But it’s really always been about grace. Always present, always offered. When we surrender to God, even in psychology today they talk about trauma responses—fight, flight, or freeze. But with God, we don’t have to choose those, because it’s not our battle. God has gone before us. Whatever He gives us is a lesson, and when we trust that, we stop putting out brush fires.

God says, “Yes, this will hurt for a while, but then it will be over. It will be finished.” And that’s the beauty—God is always at the core. Recently, I’ve experienced real danger on my block. I’ve been telling authorities for two years that something had to change. Then it blew up—someone was shot. Suddenly, they’re paying attention. But all the while, God was saying, “Let it go. It’s not your battle.”

There’s research now about how trauma rewires the brain. And what you’ve all been talking about—historical trauma, cultural trauma, trauma in families—it’s all part of that. But if we start to see things differently, we can reframe our experience. Through breath, through awareness—asking, “Is this happening outside of me or inside me?”—we can shift our perspective. Jesus talked about this all the time: “Stop focusing on the problem.” He said if you tell the mountain to move, and believe it, it will move—because you’ve released it to God.

If we believe God is in control, then we also trust the timing. The story is complete. The story ended when Jesus said, “It is finished.” It’s not mine to carry. Even prisoners of war—when they come out with strong faith, their recovery is different. They talk about peace, restoration, forgiveness. Not revenge. That’s the power of grace. When we endure suffering and loss, we come to see: this wasn’t mine to begin with. I was just a witness to God’s glory. And when I take my hands off of it, God’s work gets done faster—and better.

Reinhard: I want to return to the crucifixion. We know the story. And through God’s grace, it brought salvation to the world. God, the Creator, allowed His Son to die on the cross. That’s unimaginable pain—pain that Jesus bore as a human, but also pain God the Father must have felt emotionally. Though God didn’t suffer physically, He deeply felt the loss.

The crucifixion was for the plan of salvation, which was completed on the cross. That’s the grace we’ve received—the grace that brings eternal life. And Jesus didn’t just come to die; He came to show us how to live as God’s people. His life was an example. And in the end, His mission was completed on the cross.

It’s really amazing. We are created beings, and we can barely grasp what our Creator did for us. But grace comes with responsibility. We have to respond to it—we can’t take it for granted. We must live in response to that grace, and if we do, we will see the fruit of it in our lives as God’s people.

Sharon: Thank you, Michael. One point that really struck me in your talk is that eternal life has already begun. As a multigenerational Adventist, I grew up always looking toward the Second Coming—anticipating some future event. But what I heard today is that Jesus is already here. The work is done. Eternal life started on the cross.

So the question becomes: how am I living today? Not in anticipation of events that my grandparents looked for but never saw, but in the reality of Jesus’ grace, right now. How does that change how I love a hurting world? How do I live differently, knowing this? Thank you for reminding us of that.

Don: There’s a sense in which the resurrection, the crucifixion, and the events of Easter weekend show us that religion is about God—not about us. We always try to make religion about our piety, our fasting, our almsgiving, our Bible reading, our prayer. But what we see in the Easter story is that it’s about what God does. That perspective is easy to lose in our religious practice.

David: We’ve talked about Moltmann before. I remember quoting him at one point…

Michael: He’s a very well-known theologian, but his writing is so dense and difficult that he’s really only famous among academics.

David: That’s the problem, isn’t it? He makes everything so dense. Maybe that’s necessary for heavy intellectuals who think heavy thoughts—but that doesn’t work for the average churchgoer. They need a simpler message. And Moltmann’s fundamental message is simple: Rejoice! The kingdom is here and now. The message is not “repent because death is at hand,” but “celebrate because life is already given.” So why make it so complex?

Don: Kiran raised an interesting idea earlier—that eternal life has already begun. It’s not something we’re waiting for, but something that is already present. That’s not an easy concept to grasp, but I think it’s biblical. And it gives us hope for the rejoicing David talks about—and a responsibility to share that hope with others.

Anonymous: Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is within you.” Is that what Michael is saying—that eternal life is already here, and we’re living in it?

C-J: I think it’s even more than that. It’s the realization of communion—not just the Eucharist, but the daily walk with God. It’s not about hoping to get to heaven someday, or wondering if God hears your prayers. Sometimes, when we’re struggling, we feel very alone. But the kingdom of God is a promise, not just a hope. It’s always present. When we let go of our limited human way of seeing things—when we release that moment to God—we can embrace the peace He offers.

Don: Michael wrote an essay some months ago that linked the kingdom of heaven to the concept of grace. It was compelling. When Jesus talked about the kingdom of heaven—in parables, in teachings—I think He was describing different facets of grace. And if that’s true, then Anonymous is right: we enter eternal life through grace, even before death. Through the acceptance of that grace, we’re already participating in the resurrection. So yes, I think that point is very well taken.

Michael: It’s a challenging topic. I don’t always feel like this is eternal life. I imagine it’s going to be much better than this. So I wonder: is it our attitude, our actions, or our faith that actually makes it eternal life?

Reinhard: You mentioned the resurrection. That’s one of the most important aspects of our faith as Christians. We hope for eternal life—and the resurrection is the foundation of that hope. When Jesus rose from the dead, He became the permanent resurrection. That’s the basis for our belief. If we die before Jesus returns, we believe that we, too, will be resurrected.

That’s our faith in Him. Jesus showed us that God has the power to raise the dead. In John 10, He said He could lay down His life and take it up again. He went through the suffering, the death, and the resurrection, so we could know: this will happen for us too, if we believe. That’s what gives us confidence as believers.

Don: Well said, Reinhard. And thank you, Michael, for your essay—for stretching our minds and hearts to think about the incredible plan of salvation. And thank you, David, for reminding us that this is an occasion for rejoicing, not guilt and shame. We look forward to your next essay, Michael.

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