Paul and the Day of the Lord
In this lesson, we will focus on Paul’s thought in relation to Jewish apocalypticism—particularly Jewish eschatology during the late Second Temple period.
In Module Five, in the lesson Exploring Key Literature that Frames the Apocalyptic Jewish Worldview, we surveyed the central themes of Jewish eschatology as presented in 1 Enoch, 4 Ezra, and 2 Baruch. Four recurring elements stand out in those writings:
The Day of the Lord
The Judgment of the Wicked
The Bodily Resurrection of the Dead
The Jewish Messianic Kingdom, centered in a glorified Jerusalem
These four elements are consistently interwoven into a single apocalyptic framework: a climactic two-age narrative of redemptive history.
When we study the New Testament, our central question is this: Do Jesus and the apostles affirm these same elements in the same way—or do they redefine them? This becomes especially significant in the case of Paul, whose writings are often viewed as complex, unique, and intellectually sophisticated. Is Paul speaking within the established Jewish apocalyptic framework, or is he fundamentally reshaping it?
To begin, let’s look at 2 Thessalonians 2. Paul writes:
“Do not be quickly shaken in mind or alarmed—either by a spirit or a spoken word, or a letter seeming to be from us—to the effect that the day of the Lord has come. Let no one deceive you in any way. For that day will not come unless the rebellion comes first and the man of lawlessness is revealed, the son of destruction, who opposes and exalts himself against every so-called god or object of worship, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, proclaiming himself to be God. Do you not remember that when I was still with you I told you these things?”
Remember that Paul had only been in Thessalonica for three Sabbaths before being forced to leave. Yet even in that short time, he was already teaching about the Antichrist, the desecration of the temple, the return of Jesus, and the Day of the Lord. These themes—familiar to first-century Judaism—would have been assumed background knowledge. Unlike today, when talk of the Antichrist or the end of the age is often rare or considered speculative, these were standard categories of discussion among Jews of Paul’s time.
Here Paul is engaging in what we might call “shop talk”: assuming the apocalyptic narrative shared by his audience and focusing on particular aspects of it. He presupposes that his hearers understand the Day of the Lord, the judgment, the desecration of the temple, and the coming of the Messiah. His point is not to explain these concepts from scratch, but to remind them how they fit into the larger redemptive storyline.
Paul returns to these themes repeatedly. For example, in Romans 2, he writes:
“Because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath, when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed.”
Here Paul frames the Gentiles’ guilt under sin (Romans 1) not as a general or timeless idea but as something embodied in a specific eschatological event: the Day of Wrath, the Day of the Lord. He continues:
“He will render to each one according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life.”
Notice how Paul links the resurrection of the dead and the gift of immortality directly to the apocalyptic expectation of the Day of the Lord. Conversely, for the unrighteous there will be wrath and fury on that same day.
This framework shapes much of Romans. Chapters 3–6, which discuss the death of the Messiah and its implications for justification, redemption, and propitiation, are all framed within this expectation of a coming Day of Wrath. Similarly, in chapter 8 (the Spirit and resurrection) and in chapters 9–11 (Jewish election and Paul’s mission to the Gentiles), Paul assumes the same overarching apocalyptic narrative: two ages culminating in the Day of the Lord and the events surrounding it.
In short, Paul’s repeated references to wrath, judgment, and the resurrection are not abstract theological ideas—they are embedded in the Jewish apocalyptic storyline of redemptive history.
As you look at the notes, 1 Corinthians 1 illustrates how central the Day of the Lord is to Paul’s approach to discipleship. For Paul, this is not simply a theological category; it is the framework that shapes his exhortations. He consistently calls his readers to live in light of that climactic day.
For example, he writes:
“The testimony about Christ was confirmed among you, so that you are not lacking in any gift as you eagerly wait for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, so that you will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Here the Day of the Lord is framed around the agent of that day—the Messiah—who will execute divine wrath, raise the dead, restore creation, and grant eternal life. We see the same emphasis in Philippians 1 where Paul declares:
“I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”
For Paul, the Day of the Lord is the terminus of discipleship. Faithfulness and perseverance are not vague virtues; they are lived unto the return of Jesus, the revelation of Christ at the end of this age. Everything is oriented toward that goal.
In Philippians 1:9–10, Paul prays that their love would “abound more and more with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent… and be pure and blameless for the day of Christ.” The expectation is consistent: discipleship aims toward readiness for that climactic event. This is not a new or redefined idea but the continuation of the Jewish apocalyptic framework we saw in texts like 4 Ezra—where the “Day of Messiah” is identified with the Day of the Lord, the Messiah acting as God’s appointed agent (Psalm 110).
A vivid example is 2 Thessalonians 1, where Paul encourages perseverance in the face of persecution:
“God considers it just to repay with affliction those who afflict you, and to grant relief to you who are afflicted… when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire.”
Here Paul situates comfort and exhortation within the apocalyptic expectation: judgment on the wicked, vindication for the righteous, and the revelation of the Messiah from heaven. He draws on prophetic imagery from Zechariah 14 and Isaiah 65—the Lord descending in fire, inflicting vengeance, bringing eternal punishment to the ungodly, and glorifying his saints through resurrection and restoration. Once again, all four major elements of Jewish eschatology converge in a single narrative: the Day of the Lord.
We see the same pattern in 2 Corinthians 4–5. Paul contrasts “the things that are seen” with “the things that are unseen,” echoing the two-age framework of 2 Baruch 51, Romans 8, and Hebrews 11. He writes that this “light and momentary affliction” is preparing an “eternal weight of glory.” He then immediately connects this hope to the judgment seat of Christ (2 Cor. 5:10):
“For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.”
Notice Paul does not pause to define the Day of the Lord or the final judgment. He assumes their meaning, invoking them as shared categories within Jewish apocalyptic thought. His focus is on exhortation: “Therefore, knowing the fear of the Lord, we persuade others” (2 Cor. 5:11).
This pattern aligns with what we might call the principle of parsimony. The principle of parsimony, also known as Occam’s razor, is the idea that when there are multiple possible explanations for something, the one that makes the fewest assumptions is usually the most reliable. In other words, the simplest explanation is often the best one.
For example: if you hear footsteps in your house at night, the simplest explanation is probably that a family member is walking around—not that a burglar, ghost, or alien has entered your home.
In the same way, when Paul talks about the “Day of the Lord” without redefining it, the simplest explanation is that he means the same thing other Jews of his time meant, rather than assuming he secretly changed the meaning. If Paul repeatedly references events central to Jewish apocalyptic expectation without redefining them, the most reasonable conclusion is that he is assuming the same framework as his contemporaries. This matches the broader New Testament context—John the Baptist, for example, did not need to explain what “the kingdom at hand” meant; his audience understood it in traditional terms.
Paul’s writings reflect this same continuity. He does not reimagine the Day of the Lord, the resurrection, or the final judgment. Instead, he consistently places discipleship, perseverance, and the mission of reconciliation within that eschatological horizon. As 2 Timothy 4 makes explicit, Paul charges Timothy “in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead… by his appearing and his kingdom.” Again, three core events—the judgment, the appearing of the Messiah, and the kingdom—are woven together, just as they are in Jewish apocalyptic literature.
In 2 Timothy 4, Paul charges Timothy: “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season.” He warns that many will turn aside to teachers who tell them what they want to hear—what he calls “itching ears.” This echoes the concern from chapter two, where false teachers like Hymenaeus and Philetus claimed the resurrection had already happened in some “spiritualized” sense. Paul’s exhortation is clear: remain faithful to the Word and the Scriptures in light of these distortions. Importantly, Paul never redefines the appearing of the Messiah, the Messianic kingdom, or the final judgment. He assumes their traditional meaning while urging Timothy to persevere.
We see the same framework in 1 Thessalonians 1. Paul commends the Thessalonians:
“Not only has the word of the Lord sounded forth from you in Macedonia and Achaia, but your faith in God has gone forth everywhere… how you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead—Jesus, who delivers us from the wrath to come.”
Here again, divine wrath is tied directly to the coming of Jesus from heaven, and discipleship is framed as waiting for him.
Paul develops this further in chapter four. He exhorts them not to grieve like the Gentiles who have no hope, but to encourage one another with the assurance that Jesus will return. The Lord himself will descend from heaven, the dead will be raised, and together with the living they will meet him in his descent. This is the context in which Paul speaks of what later came to be called the “rapture”—not as an escape from the world, but as part of the Second Temple Jewish expectation of the regathering of Israel, the judgment of the nations, and the glorification of Jerusalem within the restored creation.
In 1 Thessalonians 5, Paul turns to the timing:
“Concerning the times and the seasons, you have no need to have anything written to you, for you yourselves know that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, ‘Peace and security,’ sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman.”
The analogy of labor pains—common in Second Temple Jewish literature—depicts history as moving toward a climactic birth: the resurrection of the dead. The turmoil, suffering, and rise of the Antichrist are the pains that precede that birth. But Paul reassures his readers: “You are not in darkness… for you are all children of light, children of the day.” This echoes the imagery of the two ages: the present age of darkness and the age to come, characterized by light. Discipleship, then, means living as people of the coming age—sober, watchful, clothed in faith, love, and the hope of salvation.
Paul summarizes: “God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we might live with him.” Here again, salvation is framed as deliverance from the wrath associated with the Day of the Lord, through Jesus’ death and the promise of resurrection.
This theme continues in Romans 8, where Paul gives one of his most detailed descriptions of resurrection and the Spirit. In verse 11 he writes:
“If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.”
The Spirit, who was active in creation, now indwells believers as the guarantee of their future resurrection and the renewal of creation itself. Paul explains that present suffering cannot compare to the glory that will be revealed. Creation itself groans in the pains of childbirth, awaiting liberation from corruption. This is the same imagery we saw in Isaiah 26 and in Jewish apocalyptic texts: history is heading toward a climactic birth, the resurrection of the dead.
Paul ties it together: not only creation, but believers also groan inwardly, awaiting “our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” The Spirit is both the assurance and the agent of that resurrection. At the Day of the Lord, our mortal bodies will be transformed, and creation itself will be renewed into the new heavens and the new earth.
Finally, Paul concludes: “In this hope we are saved.” Salvation, then, is not escape from the world but deliverance from the coming wrath into the hope of resurrection, eternal life, and the restored creation. Though Paul sometimes uses different language than other Second Temple Jewish texts, the framework is the same: the present age of suffering is passing away, and the age to come—marked by resurrection, judgment, and restoration—will soon be revealed.
Paul ties this all together by incorporating the unique gift of the Spirit. We’ll explore this more in the future lesson on the Spirit, but here he makes it the foundation for exhortation: “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see”—namely, the resurrection, the redemption of our bodies, and the new creation—“we wait for it with patience.” In other words, hope sustains perseverance and discipleship.
Philippians 3 gives another clear window into Paul’s assumed Jewish apocalyptic framework centered on the resurrection of the dead. He writes: “One thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Here the “prize” is resurrection and eternal life. Paul’s choice of language shows that this is the singular goal—the ultimate hope—just as it was for other Jews of his day. Paul may express himself in more complex ways as a highly educated Jew, but the framework is the same: life forever in the age to come.
Peter, for example, would stand beside Paul and say, “Yes, that’s what we’re all aiming for.” Even if the wording differs, the shared goal remains the same. Paul reinforces this in 1 Corinthians 9, contrasting the temporary crown given to athletes with the imperishable prize of resurrection. Just prior to this, in verse 10, Paul says his aim is “that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection of the dead.” For Paul, discipleship means identifying with Jesus in suffering now in order to share in his resurrection later.
Returning to Philippians 3, Paul presses forward toward the return of Jesus and the resurrection of the dead, contrasting this hope with the path of those he calls “enemies of the cross”—those whose end is destruction, whose god is their appetites, and who boast in earthly pride. By contrast, “our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body.” The transformation of the body—the resurrection—is the high calling that motivates Paul despite persecution and opposition.
This flows naturally into Philippians 4, where Paul exhorts Euodia and Syntyche to be of one mind, reminding them that their names are written in the book of life. That book, opened at the Day of the Lord, is the assurance of inheritance in the resurrection. He then says: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand.” Because the return of Jesus is near and the judgment is coming, believers need not be anxious. Instead, they rejoice daily, confident that they will inherit eternal life and the resurrection of the body. This perspective reshapes how we endure suffering, how we relate to others, and how we pray: with thanksgiving, knowing our lives are hidden in the hope of the age to come.
So again, Paul is speaking in thoroughly Jewish apocalyptic categories: the Day of the Lord, the wrath to come, the resurrection of the dead, the return of the Messiah, and the coming kingdom. He never redefines these elements. The only question arises in three debated passages—Romans 14, 1 Corinthians 4, and Colossians 1. Even in those, if we interpret them within the traditional Jewish apocalyptic narrative, they make the most sense. To read them as radical redefinitions of the Messianic kingdom introduces confusion. Everywhere else, Paul’s language clearly fits the apocalyptic expectations of his contemporaries.
For instance, in Ephesians 5 Paul warns: “You may be sure of this, that everyone who is sexually immoral or impure, or who is covetous (that is, an idolater), has no inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God. Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience.” Again, this is the same package of ideas: inheritance in the kingdom, exclusion through sin and idolatry, and the coming wrath of God.
The coming wrath of God, associated with the Day of the Lord, is functionally bound together with the kingdom of Christ and of God. The kingdom is inaugurated by the great coronation banquet in Jerusalem at the Day of the Lord—after the judgment and the resurrection of the dead. These realities are not separate events but an interwoven package.
1 Corinthians 6 illustrates this well. Paul rebukes the Corinthians for suing one another before unbelievers, reminding them that they will one day inherit the new heavens and new earth and rule over it with the Messiah. The righteous will inherit creation renewed, administrating life and peace with the Messiah seated on Mount Zion, granting immortality and honor—first to the Jew, then to the Gentile. The nations will bring their glory into the new Jerusalem, and angels will minister from heaven to earth for unending ages. In light of this hope, Paul asks, “Why not rather suffer wrong? Why not rather be defrauded?” (v.7). To endure injustice now is to gain greater reward in the age to come. Instead, they were wronging their own brothers, thereby undermining their witness and even endangering their eternal inheritance. So Paul warns them bluntly: “Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God?” (v.9). He places their behavior in the same category as obvious sins—sexual immorality, idolatry, adultery, greed, drunkenness, and swindling—sins that lead not to life but to wrath. Yet he reminds them: “Such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.” Again, Paul references the kingdom in passing, assuming the traditional Jewish apocalyptic framework without redefining it.
This becomes especially clear in 1 Corinthians 15, where Paul confronts the denial of bodily resurrection—a denial rooted in Greco-Roman thought that regarded the body as corrupt and irredeemable. Some in Corinth, influenced by Hellenistic spiritualizing trends (proto-Gnostic ideas), claimed the resurrection had already happened spiritually. Paul rejects this outright. If Christ has been raised bodily, then believers too will be raised bodily at his coming. Without the resurrection of the body, the gospel itself collapses.
Paul reaches his climax when answering the mockery, “What kind of body will they have?” He insists that resurrection means transformation: the corruptible will be clothed with incorruption, the mortal with immortality. Borrowing imagery familiar from texts like 2 Baruch, he declares that the resurrected will shine with the glory of the stars. “Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable” (v.50). In other words, mortal existence in this age cannot inherit the age to come. Against those claiming the resurrection and kingdom had already arrived “spiritually,” Paul insists: no—transformation into incorruptibility happens only at the last trumpet, when the dead are raised and the living are changed in an instant.
This shows that Paul is not redefining resurrection, judgment, or the kingdom into ethereal, spiritualized realities. Rather, he affirms the same apocalyptic narrative held by his Jewish contemporaries: the Day of the Lord, the resurrection of the dead, the judgment, and the Messianic kingdom. His opponents may reinterpret these events, but Paul consistently resists such Hellenization.
Some argue that Paul speaks less often of the kingdom or the Day of the Lord than the Gospels. But this is because he uses other, interchangeable terms from the same apocalyptic package—the coming (parousia) of the Messiah, the revelation (apokalypsis), the appearing (epiphaneia). These all refer to the same climactic event. To claim Paul radically redefined such categories would require sustained explanation, not passing references. To redefine the “kingdom of God” would be like redefining the “pyramids”: everyone knows what is meant, unless one deliberately overturns the definition and explains it in detail. Paul never does this. Later Gnostics and allegorists like Origen did attempt such redefinitions, spiritualizing resurrection and kingdom. But Paul speaks as a Second Temple Jew: he assumes his readers share the same definitions of the Day of the Lord, resurrection, judgment, and kingdom.
In summary, Paul’s letters consistently reflect the four pillars of Jewish apocalyptic hope: the Day of the Lord, the judgment of the living and the dead, the resurrection of the dead, and the Messianic kingdom. His references are often brief, but they always assume the same two-age framework common to his time. There is little evidence that he sought to redefine these realities.
In a future lesson, we’ll step back from Paul to examine how alternative Gentile narratives—especially Greek and Roman—began to reshape the church’s theology. These narratives often co-opt Paul’s words to support a spiritualized redemptive story that diverges from the Jewish apocalyptic framework. After that, we will return to Paul to examine his unique contributions within Second Temple thought.
References
This study draws on John Harrigan’s teaching, Discipling Gentiles into the Hope of Israel.