Original Meaning

The Work of God for Us in Christ (8:31–34)

AS HE HAS done so often in Romans, Paul launches a new direction with a question: “What, then, shall we say in response to this?” “This” is actually plural in the Greek (tauta, “these things”); it refers to the many reasons for our confidence that Paul has rehearsed in chapters 5–8. All those reasons can be neatly summed up in one statement: God is “for us.” Who, then, Paul rightly asks, can be “against us?” Of course, we know (and Paul recognizes [see 5:3–4; 8:17–18]) that many people and things still oppose us: people who hate Christians, the trials of life, Satan himself. But Paul’s point is that with God on our side, none of this opposition ultimately matters. As Chrysostom has written:

Yet those that be against us, so far are they from thwarting us at all, that even without their will they become to us the causes of crowns, and procurers of countless blessings, so that God’s wisdom turneth their plots unto our salvation and glory. See how really no one is against us!3

Verse 32 is not explicitly connected to verse 31, but it reinforces Paul’s point. God’s being “for us” is seen climactically in his giving of his beloved Son. If he has done that, we can be certain he will also give us “all things”—or, to put it in the terms of verse 31, nothing can ultimately oppose us. The gift of God in the death of his Son as a basis for our hope harks back to 5:5–8. But the way Paul puts it here suggests a comparison between Christ and Isaac. As Abraham did not spare his beloved son Isaac, so God does not spare his beloved Son (see Gen. 22). The “all things” we are guaranteed as a result of Christ’s death for us includes both our final glory and all that God provides to bring us to that glory (see the “good” of Rom. 8:28).

The punctuation of verse 33–34 is difficult to sort out. Older Greek manuscripts of the New Testament contain no punctuation at all, so editors of modern Bibles have to decide how to do it. At least six different possibilities exist here. The NIV reflects probably the best of the options, with each verse featuring a question and answer.

“Bring [a] charge” (v. 33) is the first of several judicial terms in this context. Again, Paul’s point is not that nothing will ever try to prosecute us in the court of God’s justice. Satan, “the accuser,” will certainly do so, and he will bring our sins as evidence of our guilt. But the prosecution will be unsuccessful, for God has chosen us to be his and has justified us already—pronounced over us the verdict of “innocent” that can never be reversed. Paul alludes at this point to Isaiah 50:8–9a:

He who vindicates me is near.

Who then will bring charges against me?

Let us face each other!

Who is my accuser?

Let him confront me!

It is the sovereign LORD who helps me.

Who is he that will condemn me?

Verse 34 provides more evidence for the same point. No one can successfully condemn us because Christ has died for us and has been raised to life to be our intercessor before the Father. With such a defense attorney, it is no wonder the prosecution loses it case!

Bridging Contexts

RHETORICAL LANGUAGE. We have used the term rhetorical in this commentary to refer to Paul’s language or argument. Rhetoric was important in the ancient Greco-Roman world, where it referred to the science of persuasion. The rhetor, a person skilled in methods of swaying and convincing an audience, was much in demand. Various methods of persuasion were developed, and scholars have often identified these forms in the New Testament.

The modern use of the term rhetorical is broader, but clearly rooted in this ancient usage. We speak, for instance, of a “rhetorical question”—meaning a question that does not seek information but which seeks to advance an argument. We have used “rhetorical” in this commentary in this broader sense. It refers to language Paul has chosen not just because of its content but because of its ability to move the reader to a certain reaction.

A modern example may help. In Norman Maclean’s wonderful short novel based on his early life in rural Montana, A River Runs Through It, he reflects on the joys of those growing-up years. “What a beautiful world it was once,” he writes.5 When I was reading that book, this sentence brought me up short. The picture of a time and place simpler, closer to nature, and uncomplicated by the cares and ambitions of adult life flashed before me. Why did that sentence have such power? Partly because of the way Maclean framed it. He could have communicated the same information by saying, for example, “It was a beautiful world then”; or “The world was a beautiful place then.” But neither has the rhetorical power of the phraseology Maclean actually uses. The difference is hard to put into words, but I think it is clear that Maclean’s way of putting it forces us to savor the idea in a way that other ways of putting it would not.

Paul does the same sort of thing. Failing to recognize this important aspect to Paul’s language will mean failing to let his language accomplish the purposes for which he wrote it. The apostle is not just conveying information to us; he is trying to persuade us to accept what he says as true and to allow it to transform the way we think and live.

Nowhere in Romans is the rhetorical force of language more evident than in 8:31–39. The full force of the language cannot be reproduced in English, but much of it comes through in translation. Consider, for instance, the many questions that Paul uses in these verses. He is not asking his readers for information; he is trying to draw us into the discussion in a way that a flat assertion will not. He could simply have said, “No one can separate us from the love of Christ” (see v. 35). But by asking the question “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ,” he forces us to pause and consider the matter. Who, indeed? My persecutors? My unbelieving family members? Satan? We are involved; and we therefore “own” Paul’s ultimate response, “No … we are more than conquerors.”

Another rhetorical device Paul uses is the omission of connecting words between sentences. This device is less obvious in English because modern versions often leave Greek particles and conjunctions untranslated; thus, their absence in verses 31–39 does not stick out so much. Paul’s questions and answers follow upon one another almost without pause. The result is that the paragraph has more the flavor of solemn proclamation than of logical argument. We are encouraged to pause and savor each wonderful reminder of God’s grace to us in Christ.

A third element of the text with rhetorical function is Paul’s list of things that might separate us from Christ’s love in verse 35 and in verses 38–39. Such lists are common in the New Testament, particularly in passages that urge believers to avoid certain behavior and adopt another kind of behavior. An author often illustrates each kind of behavior by citing examples. Scholars recognize in these lists a typical form of speaking used widely in the ancient world. They call them (not surprisingly!) “vice lists” and “virtue lists.” The lists we find in verses 35 and 38–39 are not, of course, vice or virtue lists. But they function in a similar way, as Paul tries to bring home to us a general point by illustrating with specifics.

Like a good preacher, Paul realizes his readers will tend to keep what he says at the level of the abstract unless they have specific, concrete examples to get their hands on. Paul could make the point he wants to make by answering his question “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ” with a simple “Nothing.” But by going into specifics about just what is included in that “nothing,” he makes his point far more effectively.

Another feature of these lists is also important to understand: They are often composed rather haphazardly. The author does not usually sit down and carefully craft the list. Rather, he casually mentions examples of the sort of thing that comes to mind. What this means for the reader is that we must avoid the temptation to think these lists are either comprehensive or that the individual items are carefully distinguished from one another.

When Paul, for example, follows up his question about who can separate us from Christ’s love by asking, “Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?” we should not insist that “trouble” (Gk. thlipsis) and “hardship” (Gk. stenochoria) are two distinct ideas. In fact, a quick search of a concordance reveals that the two are often used together as a pair to connote the general idea of suffering (see, e.g., Deut. 28:53, 55, 57; Isa. 8:22; 30:6; Rom. 2:9; 2 Cor. 6:4). To insist that each word must have a distinct meaning fails to recognize the rhetorical effect of the pair. It functions something like our common expression “sick and tired.” If I say that I am “sick and tired” of the hot weather, I am not expecting someone to think I am both “sick” and “tired.” The two work together to convey a single idea.

Nor should I think that Paul intends this list to include every possible thing that might separate me from Christ’s love. Moreover, the very wording of these lists will often have more to do with rhetoric than with content. Consider some of the “pairs” in Paul’s additional list of threats to our security in Christ in verses 38–39. When Paul speaks of “neither height nor depth,” he may not have in mind specific spiritual powers (as some interpreters think) or even any clear conception of the makeup of the universe (a realm above the world and one below it). He may simply be trying to communicate the idea of “everything” by using spatial imagery.

The reader of the Bible, then, needs to be alert to rhetorical devices. In a laudable effort to understand every detail of the Word that God has given us, we are prone to overinterpret single words and phrases, often missing the bigger picture. Even more tragically, we can forget that the biblical writers are trying to get us to respond to what they are saying. They choose language and phraseology designed to stir our emotions and move our wills. A preoccupation with the minutia of the text can keep us from appreciating its ultimate purpose and power.

Contemporary Significance

SPIRITUAL FORCES. Three of the nine potential threats to our security in Christ that Paul lists in verses 38–39 refer to spiritual beings: “angels,” “rulers” (NIV “demons”), and “powers.” Two others—“height” and “depth”—may have such a reference (see Original Meaning section). We might think this to be a disproportionate amount of attention being paid to the spiritual realm. But it fits both Paul’s own day—and, increasingly, our own. In the first century, people were paying less and less attention to the official gods of Greece and Rome and getting involved in various Eastern religions, mystery religions, and astrology. Most people believed that the world of nature and the world of humankind were controlled by spiritual beings and influences, including the stars. In such an atmosphere, it is no wonder that Paul offers as much attention as he does on spiritual beings. His readers need assurance that Christ’s love is powerful enough to overcome any spiritual force they may ever have heard of.

People in our culture are also turning away from the official gods of the Judeo-Christian tradition to embrace all kinds of Eastern, New Age, and spiritualist religions. Belief in spiritual beings and their influence on human affairs is increasing, replacing the rationalism of the scientific age. Christians are not immune from the trend. We, too, have seen a reawakening of interest in the spiritual realm, as the novels of Frank Perretti both testify to and contribute to. Demons, we have been reminded, exist and continue to exercise power. Some believers have become almost paralyzed in fear at the prospect.

As C. S. Lewis wisely remarked, we tend either to ignore Satan and his minions or to give them far too much credit. The church seems to be in the latter phase at the present. Therefore Paul’s emphatic assertion that no spiritual being can separate us from Christ is needed in the church today. We need to recognize and proclaim that God in Christ has won a victory over the “powers and authorities” (Col. 2:15), and that they have no power to keep us from inheriting the salvation God has promised all who love him. Nothing on earth can separate us from God’s love for us in Christ, and neither can anything in heaven.

Angels. One aspect of this matter perhaps remains puzzling: Why does Paul include “angels” among potential threats to our security? Are not angels “ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation” (Heb. 1:14)? How can they possibly “separate us from the love of God”? A few interpreters have tried to solve the problem by suggesting that Paul may have in mind fallen angels (cf. 2 Peter 2:4; Jude 6) or spiritual beings of all kinds (cf. 1 Cor. 4:9; 6:3 [?]; 13:1). But Paul usually uses the word angelos to refer to the “good angels”; when paired with “rulers” (NIV “demons”), this would seem especially clear.6 Why, then, does he include them in this list of powers that might hinder the believer’s security in Christ?

Recall that the items in lists such as this one do not always have a specific, independent significance. They are often chosen for rhetorical effect and without regard to precise meaning. Thus the phrase “angels nor demons” may simply be Paul’s way of summing up the entirety of the spiritual realm. He may not have thought much about the specific role of angels in the matter.

Yet it is significant that Paul chooses to include the entire spiritual realm, not just its evil side, in this list. He seems to suggest that even good spiritual beings can somehow be a threat to our relationship with Christ. We can understand this perhaps by glancing quickly at Colossians and by considering the role of angels in our modern culture.

Paul writes to the Christians in Colosse in order to counter false teaching that had invaded the community. One of the elements of that false teaching was a preoccupation with angels. The false teachers were apparently making so much of these angels that the uniqueness of Christ was being threatened. So Paul insists that Christ is superior to any spiritual being: “For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him” (1:16); “you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority” (2:10).

The false teachers were so involved with angels that they were apparently worshiping them (Col. 2:18).7 What Paul counters in his letter to the Colossians is, in fact, a persistent tendency in the history of Christianity. Believers in almost every age have succumbed to a fascination of the spiritual realm, speculating about angels, their makeup, and their significance. Sometimes the interest in angels has become so intense that it has become virtually a cult.

Our own day has seen a renewed interest in angels. The popular Frank Perretti novels have focused the attention of many Christians on the significance of the spiritual realm in general and on the role of ministering angels in particular. In the wider culture, television shows about angels, such as Touched by an Angel, have become popular. This interest in angels has, of course, had positive results. Non-Christians have been shaken out of their narrow materialism by a presentation of the reality of angelic intervention in the affairs of humans. Believers have had their convictions about the ultimate significance of the spiritual realm strengthened.

But interest in angels can also deflect both Christians and non-Christians alike from the real spiritual issue. Belief in angels is perfect for people who want their religion to offer them hope and comfort without any obligations. Angels do good things for us but don’t demand anything from us. For non-Christians, then, interest in angels can provide a warm, fuzzy feeling of being religious or spiritual while inoculating them against coming to grips with the source of the only true spiritual experience, the God who has revealed himself in Jesus Christ.

For Christians, an overemphasis on angels can lead to the kind of problem Paul denounces at Colosse. Believers can become so interested in these spiritual beings that they fail to give Christ the supreme spiritual position he alone should have. Thus, angels can threaten a believer’s security in Christ. If Satan cannot deflect our worship of the Lord by getting us involved in sin, he will seek to accomplish the same end by getting us to give too much of our attention to good, but subsidiary, persons or things.

Original Meaning

The Love of God for Us in Christ (8:35–39)

THE QUESTION AT the beginning of verse 35 shifts the focus of the paragraph. It is parallel to the one in verse 31, but sets the tone for verses 35–39 by introducing Christ’s love into the picture. Knowing we are declared innocent of all charges against us is a wonderful assurance. But Christ not only defends us; he loves us and enters into relationship with us, and nothing will ever separate us from that love. To make sure we get the point, Paul specifies some threats at the end of verse 35. As a comparison with 2 Corinthians 11:26–27 and 12:10 reveals, Paul himself has gone through most of these. He has learned by experience that they cannot disrupt his relationship with Christ.

The quotation of Psalm 44:22 in verse 36 is a bit of a detour in the logic of Paul’s argument. But the detour reveals two of his key concerns: to remind us that suffering is a natural and expected part of the Christian life (cf. 5:3–4; 8:17), and to root the experiences of Christians in the experience of God’s old covenant people.

With verse 37, Paul returns to the main line of his teaching in verse 35. In all the varied difficulties of life, we are “more than conquerors.” This felicitous rendering of the Greek verb hypernikao (to more than triumph over) goes all the way back to the sixteenth-century Geneva Bible. Paul may have chosen this rare intensive form of the verb simply to emphasize the certainty of our triumph. But he may also be suggesting that we more than triumph over adversity; in God’s good hand, it even leads to our “good” (v. 28).

Paul concludes his celebration of God’s love for us in Christ with his own personal testimony: “I am persuaded….” The list following is arranged in four pairs, with “powers” thrown in between the third and fourth pair. We can easily “overinterpret” such a list, insisting on a precision of definitions that misses the point of Paul’s rhetoric. In general, however, “death” and “life” refer to the two basic states of human existence. “Angels” and “demons” (archai, i.e., “rulers,” which Paul uses to denote evil spiritual beings [see Eph. 6:12; Col. 2:15]) summarize the entirety of the spiritual world.

A few interpreters take “present things” and “coming things” (lit. trans.) as spiritual beings too, but evidence is lacking for these as such titles. Probably Paul chooses to summarize all of history, along with the people and events it contains, in a temporal perspective. It is not clear why Paul disrupts his neat parallelism with the word “powers” at this point, but the word refers again to spiritual beings (1 Cor. 15:24; Eph. 1:21).

“Height” and “depth” are the most difficult of the pairs of terms to identify. Since these words were applied to the space above and below the horizon, and since ancient people often invested celestial phenomena with spiritual significance, Paul may be referring to spiritual beings again.4 Yet Paul uses similar language in Ephesians 3:18 in a simple spatial sense. Thus, perhaps, he chooses yet another way of trying to help us understand that there is nothing in all the world—whether we are dead or alive, whether they are things we now face or things we will face in the future, whether they are above us or below us—that can separate us from the “love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” As the chapter began with “no condemnation” (Rom. 8:1), so it ends with the bookends of “no separation” (8:35, 39).

Bridging Contexts

RHETORICAL LANGUAGE. We have used the term rhetorical in this commentary to refer to Paul’s language or argument. Rhetoric was important in the ancient Greco-Roman world, where it referred to the science of persuasion. The rhetor, a person skilled in methods of swaying and convincing an audience, was much in demand. Various methods of persuasion were developed, and scholars have often identified these forms in the New Testament.

The modern use of the term rhetorical is broader, but clearly rooted in this ancient usage. We speak, for instance, of a “rhetorical question”—meaning a question that does not seek information but which seeks to advance an argument. We have used “rhetorical” in this commentary in this broader sense. It refers to language Paul has chosen not just because of its content but because of its ability to move the reader to a certain reaction.

A modern example may help. In Norman Maclean’s wonderful short novel based on his early life in rural Montana, A River Runs Through It, he reflects on the joys of those growing-up years. “What a beautiful world it was once,” he writes.5 When I was reading that book, this sentence brought me up short. The picture of a time and place simpler, closer to nature, and uncomplicated by the cares and ambitions of adult life flashed before me. Why did that sentence have such power? Partly because of the way Maclean framed it. He could have communicated the same information by saying, for example, “It was a beautiful world then”; or “The world was a beautiful place then.” But neither has the rhetorical power of the phraseology Maclean actually uses. The difference is hard to put into words, but I think it is clear that Maclean’s way of putting it forces us to savor the idea in a way that other ways of putting it would not.

Paul does the same sort of thing. Failing to recognize this important aspect to Paul’s language will mean failing to let his language accomplish the purposes for which he wrote it. The apostle is not just conveying information to us; he is trying to persuade us to accept what he says as true and to allow it to transform the way we think and live.

Nowhere in Romans is the rhetorical force of language more evident than in 8:31–39. The full force of the language cannot be reproduced in English, but much of it comes through in translation. Consider, for instance, the many questions that Paul uses in these verses. He is not asking his readers for information; he is trying to draw us into the discussion in a way that a flat assertion will not. He could simply have said, “No one can separate us from the love of Christ” (see v. 35). But by asking the question “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ,” he forces us to pause and consider the matter. Who, indeed? My persecutors? My unbelieving family members? Satan? We are involved; and we therefore “own” Paul’s ultimate response, “No … we are more than conquerors.”

Another rhetorical device Paul uses is the omission of connecting words between sentences. This device is less obvious in English because modern versions often leave Greek particles and conjunctions untranslated; thus, their absence in verses 31–39 does not stick out so much. Paul’s questions and answers follow upon one another almost without pause. The result is that the paragraph has more the flavor of solemn proclamation than of logical argument. We are encouraged to pause and savor each wonderful reminder of God’s grace to us in Christ.

A third element of the text with rhetorical function is Paul’s list of things that might separate us from Christ’s love in verse 35 and in verses 38–39. Such lists are common in the New Testament, particularly in passages that urge believers to avoid certain behavior and adopt another kind of behavior. An author often illustrates each kind of behavior by citing examples. Scholars recognize in these lists a typical form of speaking used widely in the ancient world. They call them (not surprisingly!) “vice lists” and “virtue lists.” The lists we find in verses 35 and 38–39 are not, of course, vice or virtue lists. But they function in a similar way, as Paul tries to bring home to us a general point by illustrating with specifics.

Like a good preacher, Paul realizes his readers will tend to keep what he says at the level of the abstract unless they have specific, concrete examples to get their hands on. Paul could make the point he wants to make by answering his question “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ” with a simple “Nothing.” But by going into specifics about just what is included in that “nothing,” he makes his point far more effectively.

Another feature of these lists is also important to understand: They are often composed rather haphazardly. The author does not usually sit down and carefully craft the list. Rather, he casually mentions examples of the sort of thing that comes to mind. What this means for the reader is that we must avoid the temptation to think these lists are either comprehensive or that the individual items are carefully distinguished from one another.

When Paul, for example, follows up his question about who can separate us from Christ’s love by asking, “Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?” we should not insist that “trouble” (Gk. thlipsis) and “hardship” (Gk. stenochoria) are two distinct ideas. In fact, a quick search of a concordance reveals that the two are often used together as a pair to connote the general idea of suffering (see, e.g., Deut. 28:53, 55, 57; Isa. 8:22; 30:6; Rom. 2:9; 2 Cor. 6:4). To insist that each word must have a distinct meaning fails to recognize the rhetorical effect of the pair. It functions something like our common expression “sick and tired.” If I say that I am “sick and tired” of the hot weather, I am not expecting someone to think I am both “sick” and “tired.” The two work together to convey a single idea.

Nor should I think that Paul intends this list to include every possible thing that might separate me from Christ’s love. Moreover, the very wording of these lists will often have more to do with rhetoric than with content. Consider some of the “pairs” in Paul’s additional list of threats to our security in Christ in verses 38–39. When Paul speaks of “neither height nor depth,” he may not have in mind specific spiritual powers (as some interpreters think) or even any clear conception of the makeup of the universe (a realm above the world and one below it). He may simply be trying to communicate the idea of “everything” by using spatial imagery.

The reader of the Bible, then, needs to be alert to rhetorical devices. In a laudable effort to understand every detail of the Word that God has given us, we are prone to overinterpret single words and phrases, often missing the bigger picture. Even more tragically, we can forget that the biblical writers are trying to get us to respond to what they are saying. They choose language and phraseology designed to stir our emotions and move our wills. A preoccupation with the minutia of the text can keep us from appreciating its ultimate purpose and power.

Contemporary Significance

SPIRITUAL FORCES. Three of the nine potential threats to our security in Christ that Paul lists in verses 38–39 refer to spiritual beings: “angels,” “rulers” (NIV “demons”), and “powers.” Two others—“height” and “depth”—may have such a reference (see Original Meaning section). We might think this to be a disproportionate amount of attention being paid to the spiritual realm. But it fits both Paul’s own day—and, increasingly, our own. In the first century, people were paying less and less attention to the official gods of Greece and Rome and getting involved in various Eastern religions, mystery religions, and astrology. Most people believed that the world of nature and the world of humankind were controlled by spiritual beings and influences, including the stars. In such an atmosphere, it is no wonder that Paul offers as much attention as he does on spiritual beings. His readers need assurance that Christ’s love is powerful enough to overcome any spiritual force they may ever have heard of.

People in our culture are also turning away from the official gods of the Judeo-Christian tradition to embrace all kinds of Eastern, New Age, and spiritualist religions. Belief in spiritual beings and their influence on human affairs is increasing, replacing the rationalism of the scientific age. Christians are not immune from the trend. We, too, have seen a reawakening of interest in the spiritual realm, as the novels of Frank Perretti both testify to and contribute to. Demons, we have been reminded, exist and continue to exercise power. Some believers have become almost paralyzed in fear at the prospect.

As C. S. Lewis wisely remarked, we tend either to ignore Satan and his minions or to give them far too much credit. The church seems to be in the latter phase at the present. Therefore Paul’s emphatic assertion that no spiritual being can separate us from Christ is needed in the church today. We need to recognize and proclaim that God in Christ has won a victory over the “powers and authorities” (Col. 2:15), and that they have no power to keep us from inheriting the salvation God has promised all who love him. Nothing on earth can separate us from God’s love for us in Christ, and neither can anything in heaven.

Angels. One aspect of this matter perhaps remains puzzling: Why does Paul include “angels” among potential threats to our security? Are not angels “ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation” (Heb. 1:14)? How can they possibly “separate us from the love of God”? A few interpreters have tried to solve the problem by suggesting that Paul may have in mind fallen angels (cf. 2 Peter 2:4; Jude 6) or spiritual beings of all kinds (cf. 1 Cor. 4:9; 6:3 [?]; 13:1). But Paul usually uses the word angelos to refer to the “good angels”; when paired with “rulers” (NIV “demons”), this would seem especially clear.6 Why, then, does he include them in this list of powers that might hinder the believer’s security in Christ?

Recall that the items in lists such as this one do not always have a specific, independent significance. They are often chosen for rhetorical effect and without regard to precise meaning. Thus the phrase “angels nor demons” may simply be Paul’s way of summing up the entirety of the spiritual realm. He may not have thought much about the specific role of angels in the matter.

Yet it is significant that Paul chooses to include the entire spiritual realm, not just its evil side, in this list. He seems to suggest that even good spiritual beings can somehow be a threat to our relationship with Christ. We can understand this perhaps by glancing quickly at Colossians and by considering the role of angels in our modern culture.

Paul writes to the Christians in Colosse in order to counter false teaching that had invaded the community. One of the elements of that false teaching was a preoccupation with angels. The false teachers were apparently making so much of these angels that the uniqueness of Christ was being threatened. So Paul insists that Christ is superior to any spiritual being: “For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him” (1:16); “you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority” (2:10).

The false teachers were so involved with angels that they were apparently worshiping them (Col. 2:18).7 What Paul counters in his letter to the Colossians is, in fact, a persistent tendency in the history of Christianity. Believers in almost every age have succumbed to a fascination of the spiritual realm, speculating about angels, their makeup, and their significance. Sometimes the interest in angels has become so intense that it has become virtually a cult.

Our own day has seen a renewed interest in angels. The popular Frank Perretti novels have focused the attention of many Christians on the significance of the spiritual realm in general and on the role of ministering angels in particular. In the wider culture, television shows about angels, such as Touched by an Angel, have become popular. This interest in angels has, of course, had positive results. Non-Christians have been shaken out of their narrow materialism by a presentation of the reality of angelic intervention in the affairs of humans. Believers have had their convictions about the ultimate significance of the spiritual realm strengthened.

But interest in angels can also deflect both Christians and non-Christians alike from the real spiritual issue. Belief in angels is perfect for people who want their religion to offer them hope and comfort without any obligations. Angels do good things for us but don’t demand anything from us. For non-Christians, then, interest in angels can provide a warm, fuzzy feeling of being religious or spiritual while inoculating them against coming to grips with the source of the only true spiritual experience, the God who has revealed himself in Jesus Christ.

For Christians, an overemphasis on angels can lead to the kind of problem Paul denounces at Colosse. Believers can become so interested in these spiritual beings that they fail to give Christ the supreme spiritual position he alone should have. Thus, angels can threaten a believer’s security in Christ. If Satan cannot deflect our worship of the Lord by getting us involved in sin, he will seek to accomplish the same end by getting us to give too much of our attention to good, but subsidiary, persons or things.