Debunking Realized Eschatology - Kingdom Sayings in Context: Jesus, Paul, and the Jewish Apocalyptic Hope
Introduction and Attempts to Redefine the Messianic Kingdom
Throughout this advanced study, we have consistently argued that Jesus, Paul, and the apostles shared a distinctly Jewish apocalyptic worldview. This perspective was primarily future-oriented, anticipating the coming Day of the LORD, the resurrection of the dead, the final judgment, and the establishment of a physical Messianic kingdom. Time and again, it is the language of the kingdom of God that provokes pushback to the apocalyptic worldview: the claim that Jesus and Paul preached something fundamentally different, or at least that their teachings point in a trajectory distinct from Jewish apocalyptic expectation.
The aim of this study is to examine those difficult passages. For the most part, Jesus’ and Paul’s declarations about the kingdom fit hand-in-glove with Second Temple Judaism. Yet a handful of verses are consistently highlighted—often quoted in tandem—to argue that Jesus redefined Israel’s eschatological hope in spiritualized or universalized terms, and that Paul carried this “reinterpretation” to its logical end. We will argue that this is not the case. Still, it is undeniable that the kingdom sayings have been the flashpoint of controversy in New Testament studies for more than a century.
One of the most unhelpful frameworks has been the “already versus not yet” continuum. This dichotomy—whether the kingdom is future or present—was not the question being asked within Second Temple Judaism. Jewish apocalyptic thought operated on a different axis: not “future versus present,” but apocalyptic versus non-apocalyptic worldviews. The baseline was a comprehensive narrative stretching from protology to eschatology.
So the real question becomes: Did Jesus and Paul abandon Jewish apocalypticism? Did they redefine the gospel by de-Judaizing and de-apocalypticizing it? If so, that would be fine—if it were true. But such a radical shift requires substantial, explicit evidence, not merely a few isolated sayings strung together to support a novel thesis. To illustrate, John Harrigan once pointed out in his teaching that everyone instantly knows what we mean when we say ‘the pyramids’. If someone claimed the pyramids were really just a symbol of “triangular spirituality,” such a claim would require overwhelming, definitive proof, not a clever reinterpretation of scattered remarks. The same principle applies here with the kingdom of God.
Georgia Buchanan, a respected Wesleyan historian, once put it starkly. He observed that scholars have “internalized, detemporalized, dehistoricized, cosmologized, spiritualized, allegorized, mysticized, psychologized, philosophized, and sociologized” the kingdom of God. Across church history, these moves share a common denominator: the systematic effort to denationalize the kingdom—separating it from the Jewish people, the everlasting covenant, and the hope of a messianic kingdom.
To put it another way, Georgia Buchanan notes that scholars have redefined the kingdom of God in every way imaginable—spiritual, mystical, philosophical, even psychological. Yet through all these reinterpretations, the common thread has been the same: to strip the kingdom away from its Jewish roots, the everlasting covenant, and the hope of a future Messianic kingdom.
This impulse has often been driven by two theological embarrassments: Jewish election and apocalyptic expectation. Put simply, many have been unwilling to accept a Jewish Messiah proclaiming a Jewish apocalyptic kingdom.
That reluctance has deep roots. A Jewish God incarnate is unsettling for some traditions. Likewise, the apocalyptic framework is embarrassing, associated with sectarian cults or sensationalist movements, from antiquity to modern figures like Hal Lindsey. Thus, distancing Jesus and Paul from their Jewish and apocalyptic contexts has been the academic trend.
The Rule and Reign of God-Distinguishing between Universal and Future Messianic Reigns
First, it is important to acknowledge that Scripture presents two complementary realities of God’s reign. On the one hand, God already rules universally over all creation: “The Lord has established his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom rules over all” (Ps. 103). This is God’s eternal, universal kingship, encompassing heaven and earth.
On the other hand, the prophets—and later Jewish apocalyptic writings—speak of an eschatological kingdom yet to be established on earth, centered in Jerusalem. Daniel 2 and 7 are key, envisioning a kingdom of God that displaces all earthly empires. In this context, the Messiah’s throne is God’s throne, and the Messiah’s kingdom is God’s kingdom—because it originates from Him, reflects His character, and is unlike all earthly kingdoms of this age.
The controversy, then, is clarified by distinguishing between two thrones: God’s eternal throne in heaven and the delegated Davidic throne on earth. Accordingly, when we encounter the phrase “kingdom of God,” we must discern whether the reference is to God’s universal reign or to the eschatological, messianic kingdom to be revealed at the end of the age—rooted in the day of the Lord, resurrection, and final judgment.
The phrase “kingdom of God” does not appear in the Hebrew Bible, the Tanakh. It emerges instead as Jewish phraseology from the late Second Temple period, where it was commonly understood to refer specifically to the Jewish messianic, eschatological kingdom. This was the shared expectation among Jews of the time, and it is the plain sense of the phrase in the vast majority of its New Testament usage.
To illustrate this, I’ve included a diagram from John Harrigan’s teaching contrasting the two categories of texts:
God’s universal reign—His throne in the heavens, ruling over all creation.
The messianic, eschatological kingdom—to be established on earth, centered in Jerusalem, at the coming of the Messiah.
The difference can be expressed in terms of who, what, when, and where:
Who: God versus the Messiah.
What: All things versus the earth.
When: Eternal present versus the future day of the Lord.
Where: The height of the heavens versus Jerusalem.
And, of course, these two realities ultimately converge, just as they were united in the beginning. Jewish apocalyptic literature often framed history as beginning with Adam, whose failure brought disorder, and concluding with the Messiah—the “second Adam”—who restores creation. This restoration culminates in a new heaven and new earth, a renewed Eden. In that sense, the messianic kingdom functions under the umbrella of God’s universal rule, just as the Adamic kingdom once did.
The Kingdom Sayings of Jesus
Turning now to the kingdom sayings themselves, the first point to stress is that it would take many hours of careful study to walk through them all in detail. Yet even a survey makes it clear that the vast majority of Jesus’ sayings about the kingdom fit seamlessly within Second Temple Jewish apocalyptic expectation.
The Greek term basileia (kingdom) appears about 125 times in the New Testament. Roughly 15 of these refer to secular kingdoms—Herod’s, or the kingdoms of the earth shown to Jesus in His temptation. That leaves about 110 occurrences that refer to the kingdom of God or the kingdom of heaven.
Most of these are simple declarative statements:
“Jesus went throughout Galilee… proclaiming the kingdom of God” (Matt. 4).
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:3).
“Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:4).
These statements assume a shared meaning and common expectation. They do not attempt to redefine the concept but instead draw upon the already well-understood hope of Israel.
Some occurrences appear in didactic contexts, where Jesus provides additional explanation—linking the kingdom to themes like the day of judgment, the resurrection, or eternal life. These clearly resonate with Jewish eschatology.
Others appear in parables (parabolic): “The kingdom of heaven is like…” In nearly every case, these parables are simple, transparent illustrations of apocalyptic expectation. For example:
The parable of the wheat and the tares parallels imagery from 4 Ezra 4: the righteous and the wicked growing together until the harvest at the end of the age.
The parable of the dragnet contrasts good fish and bad fish, sorted at the end.
The parable of the treasure in the field highlights the radical exchange of this age for the life of the age to come.
The point is straightforward: the parables are not coded revelations of mystical new ideas. They are moral exhortations, designed to highlight the difference between the righteous and the wicked, and to provoke repentance.
Jesus Himself explains this in all three synoptic Gospels: when asked why He teaches in parables, He cites Isaiah 6. Parables are not primarily for the faithful but for the unfaithful—for those who “though seeing, do not see.” They confront hypocrisy, calling for repentance in light of the coming kingdom.
Thus, parables are not proof that Jesus was introducing esoteric, spiritualized reinterpretations. They are consistent with Second Temple Jewish apocalyptic thought, functioning as prophetic calls to repentance in light of impending judgment.
The Few “Problem” Sayings That Are Debatable
Out of more than a hundred references, there are perhaps five or six individual verses that are genuinely debated. These verses—often lifted out of context and stacked together—form the backbone of arguments that Jesus was spiritualizing or universalizing the kingdom.
Clayton Sullivan addresses this issue well in his book Rethinking Realized Eschatology. He notes that the interpretation of the kingdom has been skewed by giving undue weight to ambiguous statements. As he writes—speaking particularly of Matthew 12:28 (and its parallel in Luke 11:20)—“an obscure verse should not determine the meaning of unambiguous verses.”
This principle is key: the plain, repeated usage of the term should guide our understanding, not a handful of puzzling or obscure sayings.
We’ll see in a moment that Matthew 12 and Luke 11 are not obscure or puzzling texts. They simply require one interpretive adjustment, and then they fall neatly into place. The real question is: Should Jesus’ response to critics who accused Him of working with Beelzebub really be the main key for interpreting what the kingdom of God means?
When the broader evidence is considered, the answer is no. The overwhelming weight of the synoptic Gospels presents the kingdom as a future realm. Charles Dodd admitted that Matthew 12:28 (and Luke 11:20) portrays the kingdom as curative power, but realized eschatology makes the mistake of inverting the evidence: it gives disproportionate weight to these two problematic verses while downplaying or ignoring scores of passages that clearly describe the kingdom as future.
Clayton Sullivan’s Rethinking Realized Eschatology is especially helpful here. In his appendix, he charts all the kingdom references, demonstrating the imbalance in interpretive emphasis. John Harrigan’s point is simple: if we have roughly 110 relevant kingdom passages, and 105 of them align with Second Temple Jewish apocalyptic expectation, then the handful that are debated should be held with caution. They could be read differently, but in fact, it could be argued that they make far more sense within the traditional Jewish apocalyptic framework than within a radical redefinition.
The Three Main “Problem Sayings”
In modern New Testament scholarship, three kingdom sayings are consistently spotlighted:
“The kingdom of God is at hand.”
“The kingdom of God has come upon you.”
“The kingdom of God is within you.”
Let’s take them in turn.
1. “The Kingdom of God is at hand.”
This first saying is fairly straightforward. No one disputes John the Baptist’s proclamation: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt. 3). His warning to the Pharisees and Sadducees—“Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? … The axe is at the root of the trees”—is steeped in apocalyptic imagery. He anticipates the Messiah’s imminent arrival with winnowing fork in hand, gathering the wheat into His barn and consigning the chaff to unquenchable fire.
This is thoroughly consistent with the prophetic tradition: Isaiah 13, Joel 1–2, Zephaniah 1, Malachi, and others declare that the “day of the Lord is at hand”—a day of darkness and doom. John’s call is simply: “Repent, for the end is near.” The response of the people confirms the clarity of his message. They confess their sins, are baptized, and prepare for the coming judgment. No one is asking, “What does the kingdom mean?” The meaning is assumed, and the response is moral, not speculative or esoteric.
The debate arises when scholars claim that Jesus, though using the exact same phrase (“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” in Matt. 4:17), meant something fundamentally different. Many argue that John proclaimed an imminent apocalyptic kingdom, but Jesus reinterpreted it as inaugurated or realized in His ministry—whether at His baptism or following His temptation in the wilderness. John Harrigan argues that this is forced and unnecessary. Jesus was not redefining John’s words; He was affirming them.
This language of imminence (“at hand”) continues throughout the New Testament:
“Lift up your heads, for your redemption is near” (Luke 21).
“Our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed; the night is nearly over, the day is at hand” (Rom. 13).
“The Lord is at hand” (Phil. 4).
“The coming of the Lord is at hand” (James 5).
“The end of all things is at hand; therefore be sober-minded” (1 Pet. 4).
Clearly, this is standard prophetic and apostolic language. The only reason to distance Jesus from this apocalyptic framework is the embarrassment that the day of the Lord did not arrive as soon as expected. Many are willing to say John was mistaken, or even Peter and Paul, or the prophets themselves—but they are reluctant to admit that Jesus proclaimed the same expectation. So they posit that Jesus must have meant something different.
Peter addresses this very objection in 2 Peter 3. Scoffers say, “Where is this coming? Ever since our ancestors died, everything continues as it has since creation.” Peter reminds them: the God who once judged the world by flood has reserved it for fire. The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise; “with the Lord, a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.” In other words, the promise is not false—it is simply measured by divine, not human, time.
Thus, Isaiah was not wrong, Joel was not wrong, John was not wrong, Peter was not wrong—and Jesus was not wrong. The oracle itself is true, because it is God’s word, and it transcends the steward who speaks it.
2. The Real Cornerstone Passage: Matthew 12
The passage most often seen as the key to realized eschatology is Matthew 12 (and its parallels). This is why Sullivan devotes so much attention to it. It is consistently used as proof that Jesus redefined the kingdom.
In Matthew’s account, after Jesus heals a blind and mute man, the crowds ask, “Can this be the Son of David?”—a clear messianic expectation. The Pharisees respond: “It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this man casts out demons.” The issue here is not the messianic expectation itself; no one denies that the Son of David would perform such deeds. The issue is whether Jesus truly is that figure.
Jesus’ response has three parts:
It is irrational—a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand.
It is immoral—they are blaspheming the Spirit of God, revealing themselves as bad trees producing bad fruit.
It is eschatological—their false accusation will become the basis of their future condemnation.
In other words, Jesus is not redefining the kingdom. He is defending His identity as the Messiah in line with Jewish expectation, while exposing the Pharisees’ unbelief as grounds for judgment.
This is the basic flow of Jesus’ response. Skipping down to verse 34, He declares: “You brood of vipers! How can you speak good when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” In other words, the false accusation against Him stems from the corruption of their hearts. He continues: “I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak. For by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.” The “careless word” in this context is their slander—that His power comes from Beelzebub. That accusation, Jesus warns, will resurface at the day of judgment as the very basis of their eternal condemnation.
This is the point of the passage. Nothing here is about realized eschatology. The polemic has to do with false accusation, blasphemy, and eschatological judgment. That is the purview of the text. The real tension is found in verse 28, which hinges on the translation of a single Greek verb:
28 But if I cast out the demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you. (Matthew 12:28)
The Problem of the Verb
This is a technical issue, but an important one. John Harrigan has written a paper on Matthew 12:28 and Greek verbal aspect theory that has been accepted for publication in Bibliotheca Sacra. The crux is this: during the Renaissance, Erasmus and others imposed Indo-European categories onto ancient Greek verbs, assuming they functioned like modern European languages—past, present, and future tenses. But in reality, many ancient languages, including Hebrew and Greek, don’t work that way.
Hebrew verbs, for example, do not primarily communicate time but aspect—that is, the perspective of the action. Verbs are usually perfective (complete), imperfective (ongoing), or stative (a state or condition; ex. “he knows,” “he believes”). The same is true for New Testament Greek. For centuries, scholars have struggled with countless exceptions when treating Greek as tense-based: a “past” verb describing a future reality, or a “future” verb describing a past action. But since the mid-20th century, linguistic consensus has shifted: Greek verbs, like Hebrew verbs, are aspectual, not temporal. Time is determined by context, not by the verb form itself.
This explains why the prophets often use perfective verbs (which usually describe past actions) to speak of future realities. By presenting the event as already completed, the prophet emphasizes its certainty. For example, Isaiah or Zephaniah can declare the day of the Lord as though it has already occurred—because its fulfillment is guaranteed.
Applying This to Matthew 12:28
The verb in question, “to come upon” (φθάνω with the aorist), is used here in the perfective aspect. Historically, translators rendered it as past tense: “the kingdom of God has come upon you.” But if we read it aspectually, following the pattern of Hebrew prophetic speech, it can just as easily—and more fittingly—be rendered in the future: “the kingdom of God will come upon you.”
This fits the entire context. Jesus is not redefining the kingdom or spiritualizing it. He is warning His opponents that their false accusation will bring judgment. Every other element in the passage points forward:
the eschatological judgment,
the eschatological Son of David,
the warning that blasphemy will not be forgiven “in this age or in the age to come.”
The whole context is future-oriented. Thus, the translation “will come upon you” makes sense: a negative declaration that the kingdom of God will come against them in judgment—consistent with Deuteronomy 28–29, where covenant-breaking brings curses “upon” Israel.
The Broader Implication
This single verb has become the cornerstone of realized eschatology in New Testament studies. More than any other verse, Matthew 12:28 is used as proof that Jesus redefined the kingdom. Yet when read with proper attention to Greek aspect, the passage does not point to a radical redefinition at all. Instead, it aligns seamlessly with traditional Jewish apocalyptic expectation: the kingdom is coming, and it will bring judgment on those who reject the Messiah.
Throughout the prophetic literature, the refrain is constant: disaster will come upon Israel because of idolatry and wickedness. The phrase “come upon” carries a distinctly negative connotation in the prophets, and that meaning carries over into the New Testament. This is why the whole flow of Matthew 12 naturally leans toward a negative, traditional Jewish apocalyptic interpretation—not a redefinition of the kingdom.
3. Luke 17
The next key passage often cited in favor of realized eschatology is Luke 17:20–21. For context, John Harrigan has provided more detail in the appendix of The Gospel of Christ Crucified, where he interacts with scholarship and walks through the technical aspects more carefully. Here, we’ll summarize.
This text was especially beloved by the Gnostics (as preserved in the Nag Hammadi library) and by Origen, who famously seized upon Luke 17:21: “The kingdom of God is within you.” From this, he spiritualized the kingdom into an internal, mystical reality. Some translations, influenced by that tradition, still follow the King James rendering. But this simply is not the context.
First, Jesus is speaking to the Pharisees, and the pronoun “you” is plural. He is not telling His hostile opponents that the kingdom is a spiritual reality residing within them. Second, even the more common modern interpretation—“the kingdom is in your midst”—often takes this to mean that Jesus Himself, in His ministry, represents the realized kingdom in the midst of Israel. But again, that reading does not fit the broader context.
The Context of Luke 17
The passage begins: “When He was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, He answered them, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed. Nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ For behold, the kingdom of God is… [ἐντὸς ὑμῶν].”
Immediately after, Jesus turns to His disciples: “The days will come when you will long to see one of the days of the Son of Man, but you will not see it. They will say to you, ‘Look, there He is!’ or ‘Look, here He is!’ Do not go out or follow them. For as lightning flashes from horizon to horizon, so will the Son of Man be in His day.”
Notice the continuity: Jesus addresses the Pharisees and the disciples with the same imagery—warnings against false claims that the kingdom is “here” or “there.” To the disciples, He clarifies: the coming of the Son of Man will not be localized or hidden; it will be apocalyptic and unmistakable, like lightning from one end of the sky to the other. He compares it to the days of Noah and Lot: ordinary life proceeding until sudden, catastrophic judgment from heaven.
The logic is straightforward: if Jesus is giving the same warning to both Pharisees and disciples, then verse 21 cannot mean something radically different to the Pharisees than what He explains to His disciples. The entire passage is unified.
Parallel with the Olivet Discourse
Luke 17 closely parallels Matthew 24, where Jesus expands the same teaching:
“If anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Christ!’ or ‘There He is!’ do not believe it. For false messiahs and false prophets will arise… If they say, ‘He is in the wilderness,’ do not go out; if they say, ‘He is in the inner rooms,’ do not believe it. For as lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.”
Here, Matthew makes explicit what is implied in Luke. The “observable signs” are not neutral but are associated with false claims, zealot movements, and messianic pretenders. This was rooted in the Maccabean tradition, where zealots would gather in the wilderness, rally in God’s name, and then storm Jerusalem in supposed divine strength. By the first century, this had evolved into the Zealot ideology that eventually contributed to the revolt against Rome and the destruction of Jerusalem.
Jesus’ correction is pointed: the kingdom will not come through insurgency, human scheming, or signs to be observed in wilderness gatherings or temple courts. It will come apocalyptically from heaven, suddenly and decisively, like the flood or the fire on Sodom.
The Key Term: ἐντὸς ὑμῶν
So what about the difficult phrase in verse 21: “The kingdom of God is ἐντὸς ὑμῶν”? Most translations render this “within you” or “in your midst.” But the verb εἰμί can, depending on context, carry the sense of origin—“to come from.” For example:
In Matthew 21, Jesus asks whether John’s baptism was from heaven or from men.
In John 1, Nathanael asks, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”
Though the verb is the same, translations rightly use “come from” to capture the nuance of origin.
Applied to Luke 17, the point is clear: the kingdom does not come from human origins—in your midst, from your schemes, from zealot uprisings. Rather, it comes from heaven. Thus, Jesus reframes the Pharisees’ question. They ask when the kingdom will come; He answers by correcting how it will come.
The Irony of Realized Eschatology
Luke 17:21 is often stacked together with Matthew 12:28 as proof texts for realized eschatology. But when read in their contexts, both passages communicate the opposite. Far from describing a present, spiritualized kingdom of blessing for believers, both are warnings of eschatological judgment upon unbelievers.
In Matthew 12, the kingdom will come upon the Pharisees in condemnation.
In Luke 17, the kingdom will not come from zealot schemes but will break in apocalyptically from heaven.
In both cases, the language is negative, plural, and eschatological.
The great irony is this: realized eschatology builds its case on texts that, rightly understood, actually undermine its thesis.
Realized Eschatology and Paul
In truth, realized eschatology turns Jesus’ message on its head. It strips His words of their urgency, strength, and conviction—words meant to evoke repentance and the fear of the Lord in light of Jewish eschatology. The same dynamic appears when scholars approach Paul. The common view is that Paul “moved beyond” the so-called primitive Jewish eschatology of Jesus and the apostles. Supposedly, the apostles misunderstood Jesus, but Paul grasped the truth more fully and advanced it in his ministry to the Gentiles.
C.H. Dodd illustrates this trend in scholarship. He writes:
“It is noteworthy that as Paul’s interest in the speedy advent of Christ declines—as it demonstrably does after the writing of First Corinthians—the futurist eschatology of his earlier phase is replaced by Christ-mysticism. The existential experience of communion with God is the realization of that future hope now. The hope of glory yet to come remains in the background, but the foreground is increasingly occupied by the contemplation of all the riches of divine grace enjoyed here and now by those who are in Christ Jesus. This was the true solution to the church’s disappointment that the Lord did not immediately appear. Not the restless straining after signs of His coming, which turned faith into fanaticism, but the fuller realization of the supernatural life here and now.”
This captures the spirit of much modern interpretation: the denigration of Jewish apocalyptic expectation, replaced by mystical experience. But honestly, it is baffling. Who in their right mind would prefer an internal mystical sensation to a resurrected body and eternal life on a renewed earth? Mystical experience is real and valuable—but resurrection life is far better. To exalt the former over the latter is to miss the point entirely.
Paul and the Kingdom of God Debated Passages
Paul references the “kingdom of God” fourteen times. Eleven of those instances are uncontested—clearly referring to the future return of Jesus and eschatological judgment. Only three passages are debated: Romans 14:17, 1 Corinthians 4:20, and Colossians 1:13. These verses are almost always pulled out of context and presented as proof texts for realized eschatology. But in context, they fit perfectly within Second Temple Jewish apocalyptic thought.
Romans 14:17
“The kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit.”
At first glance, some say this redefines the kingdom as a present spiritual reality. But the surrounding passage has nothing to do with realized eschatology. Paul is addressing conflict between Jewish and Gentile believers over kosher laws and calendar observances. Jewish believers were judging Gentiles, and Gentiles were despising Jews. Paul reminds them all: “We will all stand before the judgment seat of God” (v. 10). He quotes Isaiah 45—“Every knee shall bow, every tongue confess”—which points directly to the day of judgment.
The issue is clear: stop fighting over food and days, because those things pale in significance before the coming judgment. The kingdom of God—understood here as the eschatological judgment—will not concern lesser matters of eating and drinking, but the eternal realities of righteousness, peace, and joy. Romans 14, far from redefining the kingdom, reinforces the apocalyptic framework: believers must live in unity and love now, in light of the day when they will all give account.
1 Corinthians 4:20
“For the kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power.”
Again, this is often lifted out as proof of a present mystical kingdom. But the broader context of 1 Corinthians is entirely eschatological:
3:13 – “The Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire.”
4:5 – “Do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes.”
5:5 – Deliver the immoral brother to Satan, “that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord.”
6:2–3 – Believers will judge the world and angels.
15 – The resurrection of the body.
The whole section deals with judgment, accountability, and the day of the Lord. Paul confronts the arrogance of Corinthian teachers influenced by Hellenistic proto-gnostic thought—men who dismissed the body and tolerated sexual immorality. Their talk was empty. The true kingdom of God, Paul insists, will be revealed not in words but in power—ultimately in the power of judgment at the Lord’s return. In that light, the verse flows seamlessly within its eschatological context.
Colossians 1:13
13 For He rescued us from the domain of darkness, and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son, 14 in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
This passage is more complex due to translation issues. Paul prays that the believers would walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to Him, bearing fruit, growing in knowledge, and being strengthened with power for endurance. This is the same language Paul uses elsewhere when praying that believers would persevere in holiness so that they might be found blameless at the day of Christ (cf. Phil 1:10, 1 Thess 3:13).
When Paul says God has “delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son,” he is not redefining the kingdom as a present mystical state. Rather, he is affirming that believers, by faith, already share in the inheritance of the age to come. They live now in the light of their future destiny. The transfer is positional and anticipatory, not a realized replacement of Jewish eschatology.
Every other time Paul speaks of inheritance, it’s tied to the return of Jesus—every time. Yet here, some argue he means something inaugurational, a realized-eschatology move. But Paul’s own contrasts—light vs. darkness, this age vs. the age to come—are classic Jewish apocalyptic markers. The inheritance belongs to the kingdom in the age to come (the age of light), while darkness characterizes this present evil age.
That brings us to the key text:
“He has rescued us from the exousia (…often translated ‘authority’/‘power’) of darkness and metestēsen (…often ‘turned away/removed’) us into the kingdom of the Son He loves. In Him we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” (Colossians 1:13)
Two translation choices have driven the “realized” reading:
exousia — In the NT, it’s virtually always “authority” or “power.” Only here is it rendered “domain.”
metistēmi — Elsewhere it means “to turn away, remove, relocate decisively.” Only here is it often translated “transferred.”
Notice how these choices nudge the reader toward an already-realized “relocation” into a present kingdom. But read the terms in their normal sense, and the line fits Paul perfectly:
God rescues us from the power/authority of darkness (this present age),
and turns us away toward the kingdom of His Son (the future inheritance of the age to come).
Redemption and forgiveness are received now, in anticipation of that future inheritance.
Paul uses the same vocabulary and logic elsewhere. Compare Acts 26:16–18, where the risen Jesus commissions Paul “to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light, from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among the sanctified.” It’s the same cluster of ideas—darkness/light, power/authority, forgiveness, and future inheritance—without a hint that Paul is replacing the apocalyptic hope with a realized one. In Colossians (see 3:4), Paul still speaks plainly of Christ’s appearing and our future glorification. The eschatological horizon is intact throughout.
Conclusion on Paul’s Problem Passages
In all three debated passages, the supposed evidence for realized eschatology collapses when read in context. Paul never redefines the kingdom of God as a mystical, present reality that supersedes Jewish apocalyptic expectation. Instead, he consistently grounds his exhortations in the coming day of judgment and the hope of the resurrection.
The irony is striking: realized eschatology depends on isolated verses, pulled out of context, which in truth align perfectly with the apocalyptic framework it denies.
The “Over-Realized” Claim
Modern commentators often split the difference: Paul taught “realized eschatology,” his opponents taught over-realized eschatology. That framing is untenable. Paul’s gospel centers on:
The first coming: Messiah’s death as atonement—to deliver us from the wrath to come.
The second coming: resurrection, judgment, and eternal life—the consummation of Israel’s hope.
Those are two sides of one coin, fully at home within late Second Temple Jewish expectation. Paul does not blur the ages; he calls Gentiles to live in this age—in mercy, by the Spirit—in light of the day of the Lord.
He rejects proto-gnostic “realization” of the future (cf. 2 Tim. 2:17–18) because it ruins faith.
Why Realized Eschatology Is So Damaging
It distorts Jewish eschatology (the Day of the Lord) - By insisting “it’s happening now,” it dulls urgency, shifting hope from the revelation of Jesus to what the church is doing. The New Testament consistently directs our hope forward.
It undermines the theology of the cross and discipleship - The cross becomes a mere mechanism to inaugurate a spiritual kingdom, instead of the pattern for life in this age—patient endurance, self-giving love, even martyrdom—until He comes.
It breeds a supersessionist narrative - If Jesus and the apostles “redefined” Jewish expectation, the new (realized) story supersedes Israel’s story. But the New Testament is better read as an intra-Jewish conflict about repentance, hypocrisy, and fidelity to the covenantal hope—not a repudiation of that hope.
And practically: if you “spiritualize” the kingdom, you logically must spiritualize the Day of the Lord, judgment, Gehenna, resurrection, and more. The entire apocalyptic package gets reinterpreted—without compelling textual warrant.
So Where Does This Leave Us?
Read Jesus, Paul, and the apostles within their native, late Second Temple Jewish apocalyptic worldview. The few debated texts (Matthew 12; Luke 17; Rom. 14; 1 Cor. 4; Col. 1) harmonize naturally inside that framework without forcing a radical redefinition.
Paul’s mission to the Gentiles was to disciple them into Israel’s hope—to live now by mercy and the Spirit, and to set their hope fully on the grace to be revealed at the appearing of Jesus. That posture still stands. If we walk in the humility Paul urges in Romans 11—eschewing conceit, rejoicing that Gentile mercy is a sub-plot within God’s larger story with Israel—we will find joy, clarity, and strength for discipleship.
I hope this gives you a crisp lens for reading Jesus and Paul. If you want to go deeper, John Harrigan’s dissertation engages the scholarship in detail, and his book The Gospel of Christ Crucified traces the broader redemptive narrative.