The Kingdom Within: Faith in God, or Faith in a Cosmic Christ?

In my last blog post, we ended with a question: the kingdom of God is within you, the new covenant is written on the heart; will we dare engage the act that actually fulfills it? That act, I suggested, is the quiet, relentless work of letting Scripture soften the stony places from the inside out, without the scaffolding of any external religious machinery. The question does not dissolve when we turn the page. It cuts deeper. Because once we place the Jesus of the Gospels beside the Paul of the Epistles; not as harmonious teammates (because they are not) but as two distinct philosophical voices; the divergence refuses to harmonize. It becomes an ontological fork in the road of “salvation” itself.

Consider, for a moment, the spare and luminous command Jesus offers in Mark 11:22. A fig tree has withered at his word; the disciples marvel. Jesus does not pivot to a theory of atonement or a cosmic transaction. He answers with elemental directness: Have faith in God. Not "faith in my forthcoming death", not "faith in a blood ritual that will justify you", not "faith in the machinery of a new priesthood.” Simply put, "have faith in God".

The Greek is even more intimate: echo pistis theos—possess, hold, inhabit the very trust that belongs to “God.” The object of faith is the Deity itself, unmediated, unfiltered. In that moment the kingdom is not a future reward earned by correct belief about a cosmic event; it is the present reality that faith in God (theos) unlocks from within. The mountain of impossibility moves because the heart has aligned itself with the living Source, not because a forensic transaction has been notarized in “heaven.”

Set this beside Paul’s formulation in Romans 3:25, and the philosophical air changes temperature. “Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood,” Paul writes, “to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God.”

Here the object of faith has shifted. It is no longer God in the raw, immediate sense Jesus commanded. Faith is now channeled through a precise mechanism: the blood of a cosmic Christ, displayed as public propitiation. The Greek hilastērion (a propitiation) carries the weight of an altar, a mercy seat, a transaction that satisfies “divine justice.” Righteousness is “declared,” not grown. Sins are “remitted” not by the slow softening of the heart through Scripture, but by the forbearance that flows exclusively from this singular, once-for-all offering. The kingdom that Jesus located "within" has been subtly relocated; it now orbits a historical-cosmic axis whose center is the cross.

The divergence is not semantic. It is structural. Jesus’ faith is participatory and immediate: trust God, and the kingdom (already inside you) awakens like yeast in dough (Luke 17:21). Paul’s faith is referential and mediatory: trust the blood-event, and the cosmic Christ becomes the sole valid object of affection. Hebrews 10:10, written in the Pauline stream, makes the transaction explicit: “By the which will we are sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.” Sanctification itself, the very word that should evoke the inward engraving of the law on the heart, has been outsourced to an external, completed act. The body offered on the cosmic altar does the heavy lifting. The believer’s role is to assent, to appropriate, to rest in the finished work. The kingdom within is thereby eclipsed by the Christ without. What Jesus presented as an ever-present inner reality becomes, in Paul, a future hope or a positional status secured by right belief about a blood transaction.

Philosophically, this is no small inversion. The Jesus character invites the soul to stand naked before the Deity and say, with the Hebrew prophets, “Write your law on my heart; let these words dwell in me richly.” The path is relational, devotional, ongoing, an internal alchemy in which the words of Torah and Prophets become the very instruments of transformation.

Paul, by contrast, presents a system in which the law has already been declared powerless to produce that transformation; its only remaining function is to accuse until the blood of his Christ silences the accusation. Faith is no longer the direct gaze of the heart toward God. It is the mental and mystical embrace of a cosmic drama whose climax occurred outside history, outside the self, once for all. The kingdom that the Jesus character insisted was already within is quietly postponed or spiritualized into a metaphor for the church’s possession of forensic justification.

This is not to deny the beauty or power many have found in Paul’s vision. It is simply to refuse the comfortable harmonization that pretends the two ontologies are the same path viewed from different angles. One voice says: Have faith "in God" and the kingdom is already here, softening you from the inside. The other says: Have faith "in his blood" and the cosmic offering sanctifies you once for all, rendering further inward law-work secondary at best. The first trusts the Hebrew Scriptures as living tutor; the second redefines them as a diagnostic mirror that can only condemn until a superior transaction intervenes. The first keeps the new covenant exactly where Jeremiah and Ezekiel placed it—on the heart. The second relocates the covenant’s power to an altar outside the self.

So the original question returns, sharper now, like a blade turned toward the light. If the kingdom is truly within, if the new covenant is the law written on the heart, will we dare let Scripture do its softening work without the machinery of any external propitiation? Or will we rest in the safer, more dramatic transaction Paul so powerfully proclaimed: a cosmic Christ whose blood mysteriously becomes the new and final machinery?

The choice is not between “grace” and “works.” It is between two irreconcilable visions of what grace "is": an immediate, inward alignment with the living God, or a completed cosmic transaction to which the heart must assent. The words of the Jesus character still hover, unsoftened by centuries of harmonization: Have faith in God. The “kingdom” is within you.

Did Paul Teach a Different Doctrine From Jesus?

The question of whether the Paul character, the supposed apostle of the Gentiles, preached a doctrine distinct from that of the Jesus character is intriguing. Did Paul’s emphasis on justification by faith in his Christ’s blood, death, and resurrection diverge from Jesus’ kingdom-centered message? And why does Jesus speak of the “Son of Man” in the third person, while Paul boldly proclaims the return of his Christ? This blog post looks into the philosophical and textual evidence to unravel this mystery.

Jesus’ Call to Action, Not Atonement

We begin with the Jesus character in Matthew 4:17, which says, “From that time Jesus began to preach, and to say, Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” His message is clear: the kingdom of God—a sort of (on the surface) contextual experience—is imminent. Jesus’ teachings, such as the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), emphasize ethical living, philosophical Torah observance, and preparation for this “experience.” Jesus positions himself as a revolutionary teacher of Jews’ religion, philosophically approaching it from an angle geared more towards an inward experience above ultimately obedience to religious law.

The “kingdom of heaven” was the main philosophical point of the Jesus character. His parables—like the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) or the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32)—illustrate a relational ethic rooted in love and justice, not a theology of atonement through his death. Interestingly enough, Jesus never speaks of salvation through his blood or resurrection. Instead, he calls his hearers to observe the path his philosophy has carved out for him: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up the cross, and follow me,” (Luke 9:23).

Additionally, a curious detail emerges in the language of the Jesus character: he frequently refers to the “Son of Man” in the third person. In Matthew 24:30, he declares, “And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven...they shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.” This figure, ultimately drawn from Daniel 7:13,14 and inspired from the book of Enoch, is a figurative agent of their Deity’s judgment, yet Jesus never explicitly claims, “I will return.” It is very evident that the focus of the Jesus character wasn’t on himself, but on a message transcending himself, which is why he is scripted as saying, “…the kingdom of God is within you,” (Luke 17:21).

Paul’s Christ-Centered Gospel

Contrast this with Paul, whose letters form the backbone of Christian theory. In 1 Corinthians 15:3,4, Paul defines his gospel: “For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures.” Here, salvation hinges on faith in his Christ’s death and resurrection—a doctrine absent from Jesus’ “recorded teachings.”

Paul’s emphasis on justification by faith is unmistakable. In Romans 3:25 he writes, “Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past.” This concept—atonement through his Christ’s sacrifice—marks a seismic shift from the Jesus character’s kingdom philosophy. Paul seems to have a more intimate connection to the Jesus character’s death and resurrection than the Jesus character himself. For Paul, his Jesus’ death and resurrection are not mere events, but the entirety of salvation.

Moreover, Paul personalizes his Christ’s return. In 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17, he states, “For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout… and so shall we ever be with the Lord.” Unlike Jesus’ detached “Son of Man,” Paul’s Christ is the Lord who returns to rescue believers. Wilson (2014) argues, “Paul conceived of the Christ as a cosmic dying-rising savior, not as a political messiah come to reestablish the Davidic throne” (p. 5). This theological leap—from earthly kingdom to cosmic redemption—suggests a doctrine fundamentally distinct from the gospel’s vision of the Jesus character.

The Son of Man vs. The Returning Christ

The divergence in how Jesus and Paul frame the future is profound. The Jesus character’s “Son of Man” is a mysterious, third-person figure ushering in the “kingdom of Israel’s Deity.” In Mark 13:26 he says, “And then shall they see the Son of man coming in the clouds with great power and glory.” There is, in this text, a suggestion that these words align with Jewish eschatology, where the figurative Son of Man acts as their God’s agent, not necessarily being Jesus himself. Philosophically, there is no question that the Jesus character understood that he was not scheduled to return ever again, and yet, Paul’s Christ tells a different story.

Paul, however, collapses this ambiguity. His Christ is unequivocally a Jesus, returning personally to redeem the faithful and to kill the wicked. In Philippians 3:20-21, Paul writes, “For our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ: Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body.” This personalization—his Christ as the returning savior—contrasts sharply with Jesus’ reticence. Wilson (2014) contends, “Paul’s focus was solely on a ‘post-death Jesus’ whom he typically calls ‘Christ’” (p. 35), highlighting a shift from Jesus’ kingdom-now to Paul’s salvation-later.

Justification by Faith: Paul’s Innovation, Not Jesus’ Teaching

Perhaps the greatest difference between the character Paul and the Jesus character lies in the theory of justification by faith. Paul’s doctrine—salvation through belief in his Christ’s atoning death—dominates his letters. In Galatians 2:16, he asserts, “Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ.” This rejection of Torah observance for salvation is radical, especially given the supposed affirmation of the law by one of the versions of the Jesus characters (Matthew 5:17-18).

Jesus, conversely, ties righteousness to action within the “kingdom” framework. In Matthew 7:21, he declares, “Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.” Beare (1959) notes, “The ethic of Jesus is fundamentally a religious ethic, wholly based upon a right relationship with God” (p. 83)—a relationship forged through the cultivation of wisdom and obedience to that wisdom, not faith in a sacrificial death. Wilson (2014) drives this home: “If we only had Paul, we’d know nothing of the great parables of the Kingdom, the Lord’s Prayer or the Sermon on the Mount” (p. 3). Jesus’ silence on atonement suggests either Paul crafted a new lens, one absent from the Galilean’s message, or that the gospels, which came after Paul, greatly deviated from the original concept of the Jesus character.

Reconciling the Divide

Can these differences be harmonized? McKnight (2010) proposes a unifying thread: the gospel as the story of Jesus. He argues, “The gospel is first and foremost about Jesus… Both ‘gospeled’ the same gospel because both told the story of Jesus” (p. 5). For McKnight, Jesus’ kingdom and Paul’s justification converge in a theoretical Christology—the person of Jesus as the fulfillment of Israel’s story.

Yet, this synthesis does not hold under strict philosophical scrutiny. Beare (1959) cautions, “Paul’s gospel is different… It is in fact a gospel about Jesus” (p. 82), distinct from the Jesus character’s own preaching. Wilson (2014) goes further, positing two religions: “Paul’s Christ Movement does not originate in the message of Jesus, nor does it represent an offshoot of the early Jesus Movement. It was, in its time, a separate religious enterprise” (p. 16). The philosophical tension is clear: the Jesus character offers a mental experience rooted in the underlying philosophy of the scriptures, while Paul constructs a future salvation anchored in a Greco-Roman savior archetype.

A Tale of Two Gospels?

So, did Paul teach a doctrine separate from the Jesus character? The evidence—textual, historical, and philosophical—leans toward yes. Jesus’ “kingdom of God,” with its ethical urgency and third-person Son of Man, contrasts with Paul’s justification by faith through a returning “Christ” whose blood and resurrection supernaturally does something phenomenal. While the Jesus character never hints at personal atonement or a second coming, Paul strangely builds his theology around these pillars. And so as readers, we’re left to ponder: Why is there such a divide between the gospel Jesus and the Paul Jesus? Are these complementary visions or irreconcilable theories? It may do us well to remember that the gospels were written 20+ years after the Paul character’s doctrine. Bearing this in mind, is it that Paul’s conception is different from the gospel Jesus, or that the Jesus character of the gospels ultimately diverges from Paul’s Christ?

 

References

Beare, F. W. (1959). Jesus and Paul. Canadian Journal of Theology, 5, 79-86.

McKnight, S. (2010). Jesus vs. Paul. Christianity today, 54(12), 24-29.

Wilson, B. (2014). Paul vs. Jesus.