We call the “good confession” what Christians confess out loud when they convert to Christ. Early Christian formulations of the good confession point to two important ideas. First, confessing that Jesus is the “Christ” is saying that he is the promised Messiah of Israel. The Old Testament contains promises, titles, prophecies, and sufferings regarding the Messiah, and Jesus fulfilled them all. Second, confessing Jesus is Lord acknowledges him as God and king of the universe—and, therefore, king over our lives. That’s why Peter preached in his first gospel sermon, “Therefore let all Israel be assured of this: God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Messiah” (Acts 2:36).
One of the earliest formulations of the good confession is found in Acts 8:37, where an Ethiopian official heard and believed the gospel. The story describes his baptism and belief. But what did he believe? The earliest Greek manuscripts do not tell us, but later manuscripts do. The King James Version documents the eunuch’s statement: “I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God” (Acts 8:37). Whether this reflects the actual statement made by the eunuch on that day, or it is an insertion made by an early Christian scribe, it nevertheless reflects an early Christian version of the good confession. In the Roman world, to say Jesus was the “Son of God” was to say that he was Lord and King.[1]
“In the Roman world, to say Jesus was the ‘Son of God’ was to say that he was Lord and King.”
Just how significant was it at the time to confess Jesus as Lord, especially when “lord” had more than one meaning at the time? Today, most modern English-speaking countries don’t regularly use the word “lord.” Mostly, it is used in Britain and its commonwealth countries to refer to someone with a political role, or it is used as a religious word. We can see this broader usage of the word “lord” (kurios in Greek) in England’s 1611 King James Version of the Bible. For example, in Matthew 10:24, while the NIV says, “The student is not above the teacher, nor a servant above his master,” the KJV has, “The disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord.” In Greek, terms such as kurios reflected a difference in social or religious status.[2] A Greek-speaking Jew in the first-century Roman world could gladly say that Jehovah God is the Lord and still refer to his social superior (master, government official, royalty) as lord.[3]
However, there were times when followers of God had to make it clear that they would worship Jehovah God alone. To understand the implications of confessing Jesus as Lord, we must place this confession against the backdrop of the Roman Empire. When Jesus was born, there was already a powerful king who called himself “Son of God.” It was Augustus Caesar.[4] While he did not envision himself as the Jewish messiah, he did claim for himself the right to absolute obedience from his subjects. Augustus also began a tradition of Roman emperors who called themselves “Father of the fatherland.” They envisioned their empire to be one big family of which they were head, appointed by the gods to offer blessings and discipline to their children.
“To understand the implications of confessing Jesus as Lord, we must place this confession against the backdrop of the Roman Empire.”
The average pagan Roman of the time would have no problem recognizing his social superior as lord, as well as the emperor himself. This is why modern Christian historians such as N. T. Wright have pointed out that when believers claimed Jesus as Lord in the early church, they weren’t simply making a personal religious commitment. They were rejecting all earthly claimants to ultimate allegiance—familial, political, and social—in favor of Jesus. To say Jesus was Lord was to say Caesar was not.[5] This does not mean that the early Christians saw themselves as revolutionaries seeking to overthrow the emperor. It does mean, however, that they had to make it clear where their allegiances lay. This is the point of making the good confession.
An important early Christian document from the second century called The Martyrdom of Polycarp recounts the story of the aged Christian leader Polycarp. He was being led to his death for his Christian faith, when some attempted to get him to try and save himself by simply swearing allegiance to Caesar and the Roman gods. The author explains:
They also, transferring him to their carriage, were trying to persuade him, sitting beside him and saying, “For what harm is it to say ‘Caesar is Lord’ and to offer incense,” and so forth, and thus to be delivered. And he did not answer them at first. But, as they were persisting, he said, “I am not about to do what you are advising me.”[6]
“When believers claimed Jesus as Lord in the early church, they weren’t simply making a personal religious commitment. They were rejecting all earthly claimants to ultimate allegiance.”
Why would this old man refuse to save his life with a simple statement that Caesar was kurios? As he was about to die, Polycarp explained, “For eighty-six years I have been serving him, and he has done me no wrong. How then can I blaspheme my King who has saved me?”[7]
[1] See D. A. Carson, Jesus the Son of God: A Christological Title Often Overlooked, Sometimes Misunderstood, and Currently Disputed (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2013). See also the confession of Jesus as king made by the repentant thief on the cross, who said to Jesus, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42).
[2] TDNT, 3:1056.
[3] Kurios is used of God some six thousand times in the Greek version of the Old Testament. See also C. E. Cranfield, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, vol. 2 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark International), 529.
[4] The Latin term Augustus used was divi filius.
[5] See, for example, Wright’s chapter “Paul’s Gospel and Caesar’s Empire,” in Paul and Politics, Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium, Interpretation: Essays in Honor of Krister Stendahl, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2000), 160–183.
[6] Paul Hartog, Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians and the Martyrdom of Polycarp: Introduction, Text, and Commentary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 251.
[7] Hartog, 253.
This is excerpted from Michael Strickland and Anessa Westbrook, New Birth: Conversion and Baptism (RENEW.org, 2021).
