Jesus says to her, Touch me not, for I have not yet ascended to my Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, I ascend to my Father and your Father, and [to] my God and your God.
The risen Jesus meets Mary Magdalene at the tomb and, before she can hold on to Him, sends her away with a message. Why does He refuse her touch, and what is so new in that message?
The refusal is not a rebuke of her love. One writer looks closely at the verb behind the older rendering "Touch me not":
Our Lord's words to Mary Magdalene are not quite given by "Touch me not." A better rendering is, "Do not handle." He tells her not to give in to her impulse to take hold of His person… here the action is continuous. That gives the force: "Do not persist in clinging to me."
She wanted her Master present again on earth, as before. One writer traces her instinct to the hope of the faithful few in Israel:
She stands for the feelings of the godly Jewish remnant. She would cling to her risen Lord, thinking that now He has come back — no longer in humiliation but in resurrection glory — He will take His place on earth as the rightful Heir of all things. But Mary and the remnant must learn this: before the glories of the kingdom, God has still greater glories for Christ, and far deeper blessings for His people.
In Matthew's account the women take hold of His feet, and He does not stop them. The difference is two kinds of faith, not a contradiction:
In the coming day of the Lord's presence, faith will have an Object it can see and touch, so to speak. It will be like the faith of the Jewish women who, when they saw the Lord after His resurrection, "took hold of his feet and worshiped him" (Matt. 28:9). But on that same day the risen Christ trained Mary Magdalene in a higher kind of faith — a faith that needs nothing visible or touchable in its object, and reaches right through to the Unseen Presence on high… She was surely to learn from His words that earthly relationships with the Messiah were now on hold, and heavenly ones were about to begin between the ascended Saviour and His own.
The word He sends them is as striking as the word He withholds from Mary.
The Lord can speak of His disciples as "My brothers". He had never called His disciples His brothers before. But through His death He has sanctified them, and He is not ashamed to call them brothers (Hebrews 2:11). Just as the bride in the Song of Songs can say, "I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine", so Mary, in the love of her heart, says, "My Lord", and Jesus, in the greatness of His love, can answer by calling His own "My brothers".
The message names God twice, and each name says something different about Christ:
Now Christ stands in two relationships with God, His Father. He is a perfect man before His God; He is a Son with His Father. We are to share both these relationships. He announced this to His disciples before He went back to heaven. His own words open up its full extent: "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God."
The two pronouns are deliberate. One writer notes both the order of the names and the line that is never crossed:
And is there not real beauty in this, that "Father" comes before "God"?… The tenderer relation comes first. Still, as more than one writer has noted, it is not "our Father," nor "our God." That could not be. Whatever the grace, nothing ever closes the distance between the Creator and the creature — not in that sense… But His Sonship is unique, even though these words also stress that His God and Father is also ours.
That distinction shapes how we speak of Him:
He is not ashamed to call us brothers. But when we remember who He is, and what He has done for our eternal blessing, it would be quite out of place to call Him "our elder Brother," as so many Christians do. Let us keep to the wording of Scripture. Let us show the deep reverence that fits us, while we rejoice in the wonderful relationship He calls us to enjoy.
The place He was going to was not for Himself alone.
He did not leave us until He had finished a work in the world. On the ground of that work He has brought us into the very same relationship with God that He Himself, as man, stands in… From now on His Father is our Father, His God our God, His home our home.
- Released, not refused. The words mean "do not persist in clinging." Jesus does not push Mary away; He sends her, because His people will now know Him in a heavenly way, not the old earthly one.
- Higher faith. The women in Matthew held His feet, and He let them. Christ trains Mary in a faith that reaches an unseen Presence on high.
- New name. Only now, His work done, does He call the disciples "My brothers" — a name He never used before His death.
- Shared place. As Son He has a Father; as man He has a God. He shares both relationships with those He calls brothers.
- Kept distinct. He says "My" and "your," never "our." His Sonship stays unique. Yet His Father is our Father, His God our God, His home our home.
Mary of Magdala comes bringing word to the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and [that] he had said these things to her.
The risen Christ had just told Mary Magdalene not to cling to Him, but to go with a message. This verse is her obedience. It brings the first announcement of the resurrection to His followers, and it comes through a woman with no rank among them.
She treated the Lord's words as an order to obey. One writer notes what she had to learn first, and how fast she then went.
Before Mary could carry such a message she had to know its truth herself. She had to learn that from now on she could never again know Christ as she had known Him on earth, in flesh and blood... Whether she grasped much or little, having received her commission she hurried to carry it out. It was a privilege indeed to be the bearer of such news, and she showed how she valued it by her exact and speedy obedience to the command she had received.
"These things" were not just news of an empty tomb. They were His words in verse 17, where He calls His followers His brothers.
"Go to My brethren." He is not ashamed to call the disciples His brethren... Now He has finished His atoning work, and He openly owns this blessed fruit of it. Faith receives more than forgiveness of sins through His shed blood. Believers also stand in the closest relationship to Himself, the risen Man and Son of God. They are His brethren... And they learn that they are now related to Christ in His new place. So they enter into His own blessed and everlasting relationship with His Father and God. "And say to them, I am ascending to My Father and your Father, to My God and your God."
Mary was not one of the twelve closest followers, and she had understood little at the tomb. One writer sees that as no barrier.
Despite her ignorance — despite the unbelief inside that ignorance — Mary was the one who was to be the first witness of His resurrection. She was the first evangelist of the new order of things His resurrection sets up... Now again a woman's heart, more devoted than His foremost disciples, is to carry the message that has gladdened it to these men, in the energy of its new-born gladness. She becomes, as it were, the apostle to the apostles! How it tells us of the way the heart becomes the leader of the mind into the truth of God.
Another writer sees the same pattern across God's work.
The Lord delights to take up the weak and the lowly to carry out the highest service. How often a great work of God has begun with what is small and weak in the eyes of man. Christianity comes in with a Baby in the manger. The Kingdom begins with a grain of mustard seed, and the new, heavenly relationships are made known through a weeping woman.
Her report had two parts: what she had seen for herself, and what He had said. One writer names what fitted her to carry it.
When Mary came to the disciples she said, "she had seen the Lord, and that He had spoken these things to her" (John 20:18). That is the kind of ministry to which you refer.
John does not tell us how the disciples took it. Another Gospel does.
Charged with that message, Mary, her sorrow turned into joy, went to deliver it. First saying, "I have seen the Lord" (John 20:18), as we should rightly read, she passed on what the Lord had said to her by the tomb. What reception she met with, John does not tell us. We learn elsewhere (Mark 16:11) that they did not believe that she had seen the Lord alive from the dead.
That writer reads her message as direct speech — "I have seen the Lord" — which is how the ESV gives it too.
- Love first. Her qualification was not rank or understanding. It was her love for Christ, and that love made her the first witness of the resurrection.
- Gift given. She carried more than news of an empty tomb. She carried the words of verse 17: the Lord now calls His disciples His brothers, and they share His own relationship with His Father and His God.
- Weakness chosen. God's great works start small. A Baby in the manger, a mustard seed, and heavenly relationships told out through a weeping woman.
- Sight told. She told what she had seen and what He had said to her. Nothing borrowed, nothing invented.
- Obedience regardless. She went at once, and they did not believe her. Carrying such news was still a privilege.
When therefore it was evening on that day, which was the first [day] of the week, and the doors shut where the disciples were, through fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and says to them, Peace [be] to you.
On the evening of resurrection day, the disciples hid behind locked doors. They were afraid of the Jewish leaders. Then Jesus stood among them and said, "Peace." Why the fear, how did He get in, and why that first word?
The bolted door shows what was in their hearts. No lock could cure it:
Here the closed door showed the fear of the disciples. They were afraid of the Jews. And what could cure their fear? Nothing but fellowship with their risen Lord. And He did not leave them without that cure — blessed be His name. He appeared among them and pronounced His blessing on them. "Peace be to you," He said. "Peace," not because their door was secured, but because Jesus was risen. Who could harm them, while they had in their midst the mighty Conqueror of death and hell?
The shut doors are not just background detail. One writer reads them as a demonstration of what a risen body can do:
On that day the Lord gave the assembled disciples a striking witness of the power of life in resurrection. The doors were shut where they were, for fear of the Jews, yet Jesus came and stood in the midst. Weakness belongs to the natural body. A wall, a closed door, a chain or a thousand other things stop it, unless a miracle happens. Not so the body raised in power, as the Lord here shows them without a word… Nothing here suggests that the doors opened by themselves; everything suggests the opposite.
Here the words do more than greet. One writer draws the line between wishing someone peace and handing it over:
Peace was now not merely wished. It was pronounced with authority, given to them on the warrant of the cross. Jesus now gave peace to them, because He had already made it for them. And this is the peace that we, who are in it, can tell our fellow sinners about. We do not merely say, "Peace be to this house," as the seventy disciples He sent out were told to do — a greeting, a wish for the good of the house. We proclaim to that house the sure, settled, purchased peace, which sinners have a title to, in the blood of the cross.
The same word answers the deepest problem a person has. It also exposes a road that leads nowhere:
He had left peace as His legacy before the cross. Now alive again from the dead, He announces it to His own. How sweet the sound in a world at war with God! It is doubly sweet where earnest souls have tried and failed to make peace with God for themselves. Their sighs and tears and groans could not do it. Neither could their prayers, longings and agony. Neither could their efforts to avoid evil and hold to good. Such people know best that conscience and heart find no solid peace in self-judgment or self-denial, in thinking about God or in working for Him. In fact, the more sincere they are, the less peace they have. They are on the wrong road altogether. Only the blood of Christ's cross can make peace for a sinful man, and faith receives it on His word.
John names the day. One writer notes what set that day apart:
In time that day would receive its fitting name, "the Lord's day" (Revelation 1:10). It is as characteristic of the Christian as the Sabbath was of the Jew. Two things marked it off: the saints gathered together, and the Lord present in their midst. So it was again at the start of the following week (verse 26)… This was not the day of creation rest, nor of law imposed. It was the day of resurrection, and of the grace that joins the believer to its rich and lasting results.
One writer treats that room as the model for every gathering of believers since:
We turn back to this first assembly meeting, this pattern of what every assembly meeting should be. The Lord has now gone up to His Father, but He has not forgotten those He has left in the world. We have His own words: "Where two or three are gathered in My name, there am I among them" (Matthew 18:20). And the Holy Spirit is with all such believers, to make the presence of the Lord as real to the faith and love of His saints as it was to those disciples on that first day of the week.
- Fear — The locked door measured their terror. The cure was not a stronger door but the risen Lord among them.
- Entry — No barrier stops Him. The shut doors show the power of a body raised in resurrection, not a door swinging open by itself.
- Peace — His first word is not a wish but an announcement. The cross has already made peace, and He hands it over on His authority.
- Rest — Self-denial, prayer and self-examination cannot make peace. The more sincere the effort, the less the peace.
- Pattern — First day of the week, disciples gathered, the Lord in the midst. That evening set the pattern believers still meet by.
And having said this, he shewed to them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced therefore, having seen the Lord.
The risen Jesus had just spoken peace to His frightened disciples. Then He did something without words: He showed them the marks of His death. Why did the sight of His wounds turn fear into gladness? And why does John name the side rather than the feet?
The greeting came first. Then came the evidence for it.
The Lord comes among His own. He proclaims peace to His disciples, and then shows them His hands and His side. By these wound marks He reminds them of the great work that made peace. Peace does not come by tears or groans or prayers. It does not come by self-judgment or self-denial, by confessions or restitution. It comes only by the blood shed on the cross, received by faith in His word.
He made the peace before He announced it. So it comes as a gift with a right attached, not as a wish.
"Peace be to you," the risen Saviour said to His disciples after He returned to them. When He said that, He showed them His hands and His side. He let them read their title to peace. Peace was now not simply wished for. He announced it with authority, and gave it to them on the ground of the cross. Jesus now gave peace to them, because He had already made it for them.
His sudden appearance raised a question. The wounds answered it, and one writer pictures the moment from inside that room.
His words were wonderful, but what shall we say of His wounds? Put yourself in the place of those men and feel what they felt. His sudden appearance among them must have startled and amazed them. His greeting must have thrilled them to the heart. But would not tears rush to every eye as they looked at His wounds? It was indeed their Lord who stood before them. His wounds were the absolute proof of that. They could doubt no more, and He had suffered those wounds for them. Did they speak? No, even Simon Peter was silent in the presence of the wounds of Jesus.
Luke names the hands and the feet. John names the hands and the side. One writer explains why.
Luke speaks of the Lord's hands and His feet (Luke 24:39), because Luke emphasizes His humanity there. His hands tell of both human and divine work perfectly accomplished. His feet remind us of His lowly walk among men. His side reminds us of the pure love of His heart as the blessed Son of God. The disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. Today we may just as truly see Him, though by faith, and know the same gladness.
They did not produce this joy themselves. He gave it, and the sight of Him was what did it.
Having revealed Himself and pronounced peace, He fills their hearts with joy. "Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord." And still it is only as we get our eyes off ourselves and one another, and see the Lord in His beauty, that our hearts will be made glad.
Jesus had promised that their sorrow would turn into joy. That day answered the promise, but not in full.
The point in the "little while" is that the Lord is not going to be lost. As soon as God has accomplished His purposes, He will come again… As far as it went, it came true when He rose again. His disciples did rejoice greatly then, but it was not confined to that. The passage says their sorrow would turn into joy. And it did… In one sense Christ is gone, and yet we have seen Him, so that we are always rejoicing. The full fulfilment will not come until Christ returns.
What the disciples saw in that room, heaven still sees. John later saw the Lamb in glory.
In the middle of the heavenly scene stood a Lamb as slain. The disciples saw the wound prints in Him as risen (John 20:20, 25, 27); John now sees them in Him glorified. Heaven treasures the memories of Calvary… There He was wounded and slain (Isa. 53); here He is the centre of heaven's strength and glory, yet He still bears in His Person the marks and scars of the cross.
- Peace first. He announced peace before He showed the wounds, because He had already made peace. It was not a wish but a gift, resting on the cross.
- Proof next. The wounds settled who He was. The same Person who died stood alive among them, and even Peter had nothing to say.
- Side, not feet. John records the pierced side, which speaks of the love of the Son of God. Luke's hands and feet tell of His work and His lowly walk.
- Gladness follows. Joy came from seeing the Lord, and still comes only when our eyes come off ourselves and one another and rest on Him.
- Marks forever. John saw those same wound prints on the Lamb in glory. Heaven keeps the memories of Calvary, and our full joy waits for His return.
[Jesus] said therefore again to them, Peace [be] to you as the Father sent me forth, I also send you.
On the evening of the resurrection day, the risen Jesus stands among frightened disciples behind locked doors. He speaks peace a second time, and turns that peace into a commission. Two questions follow. Why does He speak peace twice? And how far does "so I am sending you" reach — to the apostles only, or to every believer?
The repetition is not filler. Commentators read the first greeting as gift and the second as marching orders.
The first word He speaks is peace — "Peace be with you." Precious word! It was not the forgiveness of sins only, blessed as that may be, but "Peace be with you." Peace is much more than sins forgiven. And "when He had said this, He showed them His hands and His side." He showed them the sign and witness of the shed blood of His cross, by which He had made peace... But He speaks to them again and repeats the words, "Peace be with you." Notice that this second time it is not so much personal. It introduces their mission... So the first words of peace were for their own enjoyment, as I understand it. The second declaration comes as the introduction to their mission. This is what they are sent to bring to others.
Peace is not the reward at the end of service; it is the ground the servant stands on before he moves.
He had given them proofs of His resurrection, and proof that in His body He was the same Jesus. Now He sets them in this perfect peace as the starting point of their mission. The Father is the eternal and infinite fountain of love, and He had sent the Son. The Son lived in that love and bore witness to it. He also bore witness to the peace which the Father spread around Himself, where sin had no existence. Jesus was rejected in His mission. On behalf of a world where sin existed, He made peace for all who would receive the testimony of the grace that made it. He had brought His disciples into that peace by the forgiveness of sins through His death. Now He sends them out from the middle of it, to bear witness to it in the world.
The room that evening was not an apostles-only meeting.
Now let us put this question to our own hearts: Do we remember that Christ has sent us in this way? The Lord is not speaking here about apostles only. I maintain that every Christian has a mission. In this very passage our Lord shows that it is true of every one of God's people. For not only the apostles met there, but "the disciples" as a whole, whether men or women. Indeed, we know that one of the apostles was not there on this occasion — Thomas. It does not say, "Then the apostles were glad," but "Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord." ... The Lord takes us out of the world by His death and sends us into it by His resurrection.
The little word "as" sets the model. What the Son did for the Father, His people now do for Him.
Christ came from the Father to make Him known to us as He knew Him: we come from Christ to make Him known as we know Him. This is true ministry, a happy and blessed thing, but serious in its character.
The manner matters as much as the message. He arrived without rank or platform.
He had come into a hostile world in lowly grace, taking no official place, but in beautiful moral reality representing His Father. This is to be the character of the assembly — not of this world, but sent into it to represent the Lord Jesus.
Being sent assumes you no longer belong where you are going.
His Father had sent Him into the world for His glory, and to bear witness to the truth. His work was done, and He was about to take up His place again at the Father's right hand. But He never leaves Himself without a witness. So the disciples must take His place in this scene. Notice their place and ours. They are taken out of the world. They are heavenly persons, because they are joined to Christ. And they are sent into the world to bear witness for Him.
The commission does not stand alone. The next verse supplies the strength for it.
He says again, "Peace be with you," to send them out into the world clothed and filled with that peace, wearing it like shoes on their feet, even as the Father had sent Him. He gives them the Holy Spirit for this purpose, so that by His power they might carry the forgiveness of sins to a world bowed down under the weight of sin.
- Peace made. He shows His hands and His side. He made the peace He speaks by the shed blood of His cross.
- Peace given. The first greeting is for their own hearts. It is much more than sins forgiven.
- Peace sent. The second greeting turns the gift into an errand. They carry to others what they have received.
- Peace patterned. As the Father sent the Son to make Him known, so Christ sends His own to make Him known as they know Him.
- Peace empowered. He breathes the Spirit on them, so the message they carry travels with His power, not theirs. And He gives this commission to disciples, not to apostles alone.
And having said this, he breathed into [them], and says to them, Receive [the] Holy Spirit
On resurrection evening the risen Jesus stood among His disciples behind locked doors and breathed on them. Commentators tie this act to the creation of Adam, and ask what the breath gave, and how it relates to Pentecost.
The act points back to how the first man came to life.
Words of commission came first. Then came words of impartation, joined to an unusual action. He breathed on — or, more correctly, into — them, and said, "Receive Holy Spirit," for the definite article "the" is missing in the original. We must notice the connection between this and the creation of Adam in Genesis 2:7. God formed his body from the dust of the ground. But the spiritual part of him came into being when the Lord God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and so he became a living soul. Our Lord is the last Adam, a quickening or life-giving spirit, as we read in 1 Corinthians 15:45. Here we see Him breathing into His disciples His own risen life.
The contrast is not only in the gift but in the giver. Adam received; Christ gives.
He is not Himself breathed into, as the first man was, but breathes into others. As the life-giving Spirit, He communicates spiritual, divine life. This is the very thing we have seen to be the essential element in new birth. In this way He is the Author of a new creation, higher in character than the old. That is clearly what His present action symbolises.
The disciples already believed and already had life. So what did this breath add? Writers tie it to the promise of John 10:10.
He had come that they might have life. This breathing was so that they might have it more abundantly (John 10:10), and have it in the risen Christ. That is a condition in which it had never existed before, with an increase of power never before connected with it. So it is not "receive life," nor "the Holy Spirit," but "Holy Spirit," as the breath of the life in the power of the risen Lord.
Kelly sets that new condition against the old.
Full victory already achieved and made ours in Christ is very different from life struggling with death. It is different from life with the written record of legal demands still uncancelled and standing against us. It is different from life not yet delivered from the power of the evil that surrounds it. It is different from life seeking after what is good yet failing, and life trying to avoid what is bad, yet somehow drawn into it again and again.
Commentators keep this moment separate from Acts 2.
The Lord's own words also show that He did not regard the action in John 20 as anticipating the special blessing of Pentecost in any way. (See Luke 24:49; Acts 1:4-5.)... What the disciples received in this way was the Holy Spirit as the power of life, corresponding to what we find in Romans 8:1-11. They still had to wait until the day of Pentecost to receive the indwelling Spirit — as power, as the anointing, as the pledge, the seal and the Spirit of adoption.
Why then use the Spirit's name at all? Hole gives the reason.
His own life as the risen Man is in the energy of the Holy Spirit.
The gift is not private. It goes with peace, and with being sent.
He says again, "Peace be with you." He sends them out into the world clothed and filled with that peace, their feet shod with it. He sends them just as the Father had sent Him. He gives them the Holy Spirit for this purpose. In His power they were to carry the forgiveness of sins to a world bowed down under the yoke of sin.
Some limit this gift and the commission with it to the apostles. Kelly answers by asking who the Lord was speaking to.
To whom did the Lord speak that day? Not to the apostles only, nor even to all of them, but to the disciples... The moment we take the word as it is written we see clearly that what He said applies to all.
- Breath. As God breathed into Adam in Genesis 2:7, so the last Adam breathes into His own — the first act of a new creation.
- Life. Not life for the first time, but life "more abundantly" — the same life, now held in the condition of the risen Christ.
- Spirit. Here the Spirit comes as the power of that life, not yet as the indwelling Spirit given at Pentecost.
- Peace. Peace frames the breath. They go out filled with it, carrying forgiveness to a world under the yoke of sin.
- All. He spoke to the disciples, not to the apostles only. What He gave that evening applies to all of them.
whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted to them; whose soever [sins] ye retain, they are retained.
On the evening of His resurrection, Jesus stands among His gathered followers and hands them authority over the forgiving of sins. Who received this, and can people decide where a soul stands with God forever?
Older translations read "remit" and "retain" sins. The writers quoted below use those words.
The room was not full of apostles only. One writer weighs the claim that this gift was for apostles alone:
But someone will say, "That was apostolic." Let us allow that for the moment. The fact remains that it was men who acted like this. No doubt they acted for God, but still men remitted sins. But if we look at the chapter we see that there is no ground for saying it was apostolic. It says the disciples were assembled, not apostles. And John 21:2 shows that "disciples" in these last chapters of John does not mean only apostles. It calls Nathanael one of the disciples, and we know he was not an apostle.
Christ gave them His Spirit for a purpose: to act for Him once He was gone.
He was sharing His Spirit with the company, so that they could act for Him on earth after He had left it. This gave them power to receive, or to refuse, anyone who came to them claiming to be a believer. When such people were received into the company, their sins were forgiven. Their past history, their acts, their ways before conversion were not held against them. They were forgiven. So the believers at Damascus received Paul, who had once persecuted the Church.
Commentators call this "administrative" forgiveness. One writer explains what he means by that word:
They were the administrators of it in the world — first in preaching the gospel, if you like, but afterwards in the proper administrative sense... And yet, if such a person is a believer, he has eternal life and forgiveness the whole time. That is what I mean by administrative. It is not the forgiveness in which the soul is justified. It is forgiveness given now, in the ways and government of God.
One writer shows how this works out in practice:
It is a picture of the assembly that was about to be formed at Pentecost — and this is the assembly's function. They have authority from God to retain or to remit sins. This is not at all a question of eternal forgiveness; it is administration, or discipline. For instance, when the assembly receives a soul from the world, what is this but remitting sins? Take the opposite case. If a person is refused fellowship, or is put away after being received, that is the retaining of sins.
One writer points to how the first Christians actually did this:
The apostles never undertook to forgive sins in an official way. This passage does not mean that. It speaks of the discipline of an assembly of disciples, acting by the Holy Spirit, in the name and on the authority of the Lord Jesus Christ. For example, when the assembly at Corinth put the evil-doer out from among them, it was retaining of sins. And when they received him back, on the ground of his repentance, it was a remitting of sins.
One writer marks out where this power is used, and where it stops:
What is called administrative forgiveness is a power the Lord entrusted to the Assembly to use on earth. It may be needed when people are received into fellowship at the Lord's Table, or when someone who was put away in discipline is restored. But in neither case would administrative forgiveness be right until God had first granted forgiveness to that person. In neither case is it a substitute for God's forgiveness. This passage in John (20:23) is the only authority from the Lord for receiving people to the Table. Matthew 18:17-18 is His own authority for binding and loosing in the exercise of discipline.
The verse has suffered from both overreach and neglect, and one writer names both before drawing out its first and simplest use.
Rome, and some churches like her, have built monstrous claims on it. They say that forgiveness of sins for eternity is in the hands of the so-called Church — really the clergy. On the other hand, Protestants have shrunk from its plain and simple teaching. They have neglected its use completely... It is not a question of our remitting them for eternity. God alone can do that. It is this: we are in the scene where Christ is not. Knowing what He has accomplished, the evangelist is to go out and proclaim the good news of forgiveness to people. Every Christian should be an evangelist like this at heart.
Commentators differ on emphasis. Some stress the assembly's action in receiving and disciplining. Others begin with the preaching of forgiveness to the world.
- Shared — Christ first gives His Spirit, so the company can act for Him once He is gone.
- Given — He speaks to disciples gathered together, not to apostles as officials.
- Administrative — not the forgiveness that justifies a soul, but forgiveness in God's present government and ways.
- Practised — receiving someone from the world remits sins; putting a person away, as at Corinth, retains them.
- Bounded — it never creates God's forgiveness and never replaces it. It belongs to no clergy: every Christian can carry the news of forgiveness to others.