Forasmuch as many have undertaken to draw up a relation concerning the matters fully believed among us,
Luke's Gospel does not open with a prophecy or a family tree. It opens with a writer explaining himself. Others had already tried to write the story of Jesus down, and he is adding his own account. That raises the questions this verse has always raised. Who were these "many"? Why was another record needed? Is what follows human research, or the word of God?
Writers point out that many accounts were to be expected, once such a Person had lived among people.
The life of the Lord Jesus Christ on earth showed the Word made flesh... The only Son of the Father, who made God known by all He did and said, was walking about among people. No wonder then, as Luke has told us, that "many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us." It was only natural that people wrote accounts, to keep the memory of what the Lord Jesus said and did... Records about Him were clearly many.
None of those earlier accounts has survived. One commentator draws a conclusion from that.
He lets us know that there were many of these accounts. They rested on what was handed down by those who were eyewitnesses from the beginning and servants of the word. These works have gone; they were human. They meant well, no doubt. These were not people twisting the truth on purpose. They were people trying, in their own wisdom, to set out what only God could make known rightly.
The word "also" links Luke to the many. But readers have long noticed what he does not say about his own sources.
"It seemed good to me also" stands in contrast with these many that had taken it in hand. They had done the work in their own way; he did it in another... He states that they depended on those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word. He says nothing of the kind about himself, though some have hastily read that into the phrase "to me also"... he does not say that his account came from eyewitnesses. He says he knows everything thoroughly from the very first, but never tells us how he came to know it.
Commentators differ here. Others read the same verses as the work of a man doing careful research, with God's inspiration working behind his own intention.
Luke's introduction shows that he wanted to give exact information in this letter to Theophilus. Yet he had not thought of himself as a man whom God was inspiring... But God had decided that Luke would write Scripture, and took hold of him for that purpose. Luke did not realise that God was inspiring him. So we may expect depths and beauties in this book that Luke himself had not designed.
Both sides land in the same place: a personal letter turns out to be a gift to everyone.
In this way God has taught the whole church. He teaches it through the picture of the Lord's life that this man of God gives us. Christian motives moved Luke himself, while the Holy Spirit guided and inspired him for the good of all believers.
The goal of the preface is not to tell something new. It is assurance. One writer stretches that goal from Theophilus, the man Luke wrote to, out to us.
In the opening verses Luke states why he is writing his Gospel. He wanted to bring certainty to the mind of one man who had come to faith from outside Israel... Understanding that order, and having the facts in writing, would bring certainty to Theophilus. It will bring the same certainty to us. We see here how certainty comes with the Holy Writings — the Word of God. If we did not have the Holy Writings, we should have certainty about nothing.
The writing itself carries that certainty. No other authority stands between the reader and the text.
The Gospels were written for believers — this one first of all for a man named Theophilus, so that he could be sure of the things he had been taught. He had the instruction, and this was to make it all quite certain to him. No church stands in between to interpret it for him.
The preface is the doorway into a book with its own character. One writer describes the shape of that book as a movement from silence to song.
Luke presents the Man of Sorrows — the Man who knew grief — and the good pleasure of God... It has been well said that the story begins with a silent priest, an empty temple and a childless home. It ends with a fruitful company praising God in the temple.
- Many — Records about Jesus were many and well-meant, but they were human work. They have not survived. Luke neither attacks them nor sends Theophilus back to them.
- Also — Luke joins himself to those writers by that one word. But he describes himself in another way: he knows everything thoroughly from the very first, and never says how.
- Inspired — Commentators read his own words about himself in different ways. They agree that the Holy Spirit stood behind the human motive, so the book holds more than its writer planned.
- Certainty — The purpose is assurance for one named reader. The same written words give the same certainty to every reader after him.
- Praise — What starts in a silent temple with a childless home ends with a company praising God. The certainty Luke aims at is meant to end in worship.
as those who from the beginning were eye-witnesses of and attendants on the Word have delivered them to us,
Luke opens his Gospel by naming where his story came from: people who saw the events and then served the message. Commentators ask three things — what "from the beginning" measures, what a "minister of the word" was, and whether Luke is admitting he depended on others.
The phrase does not reach back into eternity. It marks a point in time, and this verse shows which point.
The phrase "from the beginning" carries the same force of time here as it does elsewhere. It never means "in the beginning," even when it is used of Him who is also the Eternal One. By its very nature it points to a relation in time. We see this in Luke 1:2, where "those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word" can only mean from the time Christ was shown openly in public testimony. So the phrase cannot refer to eternity. It refers to what its witnesses saw in time.
God used men who had seen the events for themselves. One writer calls that a kindness, and then blocks a wrong conclusion drawn from it.
In His grace the Lord did stoop to use eyewitnesses, so that people would have no excuse for not believing. That is true and precious. But it is completely false to say that the trustworthiness of what Scripture says is "grounded not on any inspiration."
"Minister" here is not a title of rank. The Greek word points the other way.
hypēretēs means "under-rower," and so an "attendant" on, or "assistant" to, someone in higher authority. Luke 1:2; Luke 4:20; Acts 13:5; Acts 26:16; 1 Cor. 4:1. It is also translated 'officer' and 'servant.'
That low place fits the subject of the book, which presents Christ in His manhood:
The word used for "ministers" points to a lower place — a fitting attitude for a man who set out to write about the Man Christ Jesus! Scripture shows the close link between Luke and the apostle Paul, so it is no surprise that Paul speaks of himself in the same way: "This is how one should regard us, as servants of Christ" (1 Corinthians 4:1 — older translations read "ministers of Christ," the same word used here).
Commentators differ here. Some take "the word" as a title of Christ Himself, the way John uses it at the start of his Gospel. Others take it as the message preached:
"Of the word" (logou) — that is, ministry, as in Acts 6:2. Wright takes the "ministers" to be teachers who gave instruction in the faith. Compare the use of hypēretēs in Luke 4:20, which speaks of the synagogue attendant, whose job was to give such teaching. The same two Greek words occur together again in Acts 13:5. […] Origen and Athanasius took logos here in the sense of John 1:1.
They handed the story on by word of mouth before anyone wrote it down.
The word for "delivered" (paredosan) in Luke 1:2 comes from the same root as the word for "tradition" (paradosis)… Such tradition could be either spoken or written; here we are dealing with the spoken kind. It began with "the apostles' teaching" (Acts 2:42)… One early writer tells us that Christians of his day preferred "the living voice" to written statements. That may be one reason our Gospels were written so late.
Many read the verse as Luke admitting he worked from second-hand reports. One writer answers that the "us" is a wider circle than the author.
"To us" is quite different from "to me also," and matches "among us." Many had set in order an account of what believers held for certain, following the report eyewitnesses gave them. It seemed good to Luke to do the same, and then he states what qualified him. So "to us" includes Luke as a Christian. It does not mark him out as a writer.
For Theophilus to be certain, human reports were not enough.
Luke does not say one word about setting out in order what eyewitnesses had handed down. Others, he says, had done that. But that was not enough. He wrote his Gospel so that Theophilus might have certainty from him, who had "perfect knowledge" of all things. That is a clear statement that his account was infallible — free from error — and if so, it was inspired, for no human account on its own can be free from error.
- Seen — "From the beginning" marks a moment in time, not eternity: the day Christ stepped into public view.
- Served — "Minister" means the under-rower, the attendant. The men who saw most took the lowest place, which suits a Gospel about the Man Christ Jesus.
- Spoken — They passed on what they saw by living voice first. "Delivered" shares a root with "tradition," and that teaching began with the apostles.
- Sifted — Commentators differ on whether "the word" names Christ or the message. The wider reading takes it as ministry, as in Acts 6:2.
- Sealed — Luke names the eyewitnesses as the source of other accounts, not of his own. God used their testimony so that no one would have an excuse. But the certainty Theophilus gets rests on inspiration.
it has seemed good to *me* also, accurately acquainted from the origin with all things, to write to thee with method, most excellent Theophilus,
Luke opens his Gospel with a personal note. He explains why he is writing, and to whom. Three questions sit behind these plain words: what knowledge Luke claims, what "orderly" means here, and who Theophilus was.
Luke says the writing "seemed good to me." That was his own decision. Commentators hold two things together: the choice was Luke's, and the result is God's provision for everyone.
Luke had followed these things from the beginning, and so gained exact knowledge about them. He thought it well to write methodically to Theophilus, so that Theophilus might have certainty about the things he had been taught. This is how God has provided teaching for the whole church. That teaching lies in the picture of the Lord's life given by this man of God. Christian motives moved this man personally, and the Holy Spirit directed and inspired him for the good of all believers.
Luke himself was not thinking about inspiration while he worked.
Luke's introduction shows that he was concerned about giving exact information in this letter to Theophilus. But he had not thought of being an instrument directly inspired by God... God had ordered that Luke was to write Scripture, and He laid hold of him for this purpose. Luke never realized that God was inspiring him. Therefore we may expect depths and beauties in this book that Luke himself had not designed.
Older versions render this phrase "having had perfect knowledge." One writer traces that word to Paul's use of it elsewhere.
The word translated "having had perfect knowledge" in Luke 1 is the same word as in 2 Timothy 3:10. There Paul says Timothy had fully known everything about him. Now this means "personal acquaintance with." Luke said he had this from the outset. He does not say how, and I do not pretend to say. Others got their accounts from eyewitnesses. Luke does not say that about himself. He only says that he had thorough, personal, detailed and accurate acquaintance with everything from the very beginning.
Some have read this preface as an admission that Luke was only a careful human historian. The same words led one writer to the opposite conclusion:
Now Luke does not say a word about setting in order what eyewitnesses have delivered: others, he said, had done that. But that was not enough. He wrote his Gospel so that Theophilus might have certainty from him, the man who had "perfect knowledge" of all things. This is surely a clear statement that his account was infallible. And if it was infallible, it must have been inspired, for no human account can be infallible.
The word behind "an orderly account" is also rendered "with method." Readers who expect a strict diary of dates find something else.
God had given him a perfect understanding of all things from the outset. So now he wrote them "in order," or "with method." We shall see as we go on that he sometimes ignores historical order. Instead he presents things in a method that is moral and spiritual. Understanding that moral and spiritual order, along with having the facts clearly in writing, would bring certainty to Theophilus, as it will to us.
This is not carelessness but design, and it becomes a tool for reading the book.
Another thing is remarkable. Examine the Gospel and you will find that Luke states circumstances not according to their chronological order, but according to their moral connection. The necessary facts of His birth and death are the exception. This gives us a most important key to interpretation.
The title "most excellent" is an official one, not a compliment on his character.
Theophilus appears to have been a man of rank, probably a Roman governor. This seems to be why Luke calls him here "Most Excellent," or, as we might say, His Excellency. It relates to official position, not to his character morally as a man. It is clear he was a believer, but only partly instructed. The Evangelist's object here was to give him a fuller understanding of "the way."
Some have suggested the name is a symbol for any God-loving reader. One writer answers that on two grounds:
Further, we have never heard of anyone, in old or modern times, who imagines the name to be a made-up label for anyone who loves God. Compare the Gospel with Acts: the writer addresses both to a living Christian. And if the name were only a label, the form of the word would have been philotheos (as in Timotheus or the like), and not Theophilos.
Luke alone addresses his Gospel to a named person, and that shapes the whole book.
Luke was led by God as one who had a thirst and loving desire for the good of Theophilus, and he fittingly addresses this Gospel to him: and we shall find this in keeping with its character throughout. It was not for him only, of course, but for the lasting instruction of the Church; yet none the less was it written to him.
- Motive — Luke wrote because it "seemed good" to him, out of love for one man. God used that choice to give the whole church a picture of the Lord's life.
- Knowledge — Luke does not claim he collected other people's reports. He claims thorough, accurate, personal acquaintance with everything from the very beginning.
- Order — "orderly" means arranged by moral connection, not by date. That key unlocks how the Gospel groups its events.
- Reader — Theophilus was a real man with an official title, already a believer but only partly taught.
- Result — Luke aimed at certainty: solid ground under what Theophilus had already been told.
that thou mightest know the certainty of those things in which thou hast been instructed.
Luke names his aim in the last words of his opening sentence: Theophilus, a man already taught about Jesus, is meant to know for sure. That raises two questions — where does certainty about Christ come from, and why did it need to be written down?
Of the four Gospel writers, only Luke addresses his account to a named man. Kelly weighs whether the other three could have done the same.
This, I believe, is why Luke alone opens his Gospel by addressing one particular man. Matthew could not have addressed his Gospel to a man and kept it true to its purpose and character; and you cannot imagine Mark or John doing it either… Of course it was not for Theophilus only, but for the lasting instruction of the Church; yet it was still written to him. Theophilus lay on the heart of that godly man, so that he might be taught the things of God.
One man's book became God's provision for the whole church.
So God has provided for the teaching of the whole church, through the doctrine held in the picture of the Lord's life that this man of God gives us. Christian motives moved him personally, and the Holy Spirit guided and inspired him for the good of all believers.
Theophilus was not starting from zero. Kelly quotes another writer's summary of Luke's aim:
Luke does not intend to enlarge the knowledge of Theophilus, but to confirm it.
The word behind "taught" points to a definite kind of teaching. Older translations render it "instructed".
"You have been instructed" (katechethes), that is "catechised," as said of Apollos in Acts 18:25… Wright asks: "Did the Gospel originate in the pulpit or in the schoolroom?"
That kind of teaching has a familiar shape today.
It must have been very much the instruction that now is given in Bible classes for adults and in Sunday schools or children's services.
Theophilus had heard living teachers. Luke's written account did something the teachers themselves could not do.
The preached word works in people, and they turn to the written word for "the certainty of the things" they believed, as Luke's Gospel puts it. So the written word gave certainty where the teaching, the living voice, had already been. It was not the teacher interpreting the word and giving it living power. It was the word giving certainty about what they had been taught.
Luke's word for certainty here is asphaleia. Kelly turns that word back on the writer himself.
"The certainty" (asphaleian). Compare Luke's use of to asphales in Acts 22:30. A man who is to give certainty to others must first have it himself. How can anyone question this Gospel writer's claim and still sound reasonable?
Not everyone reads Luke's preface that way.
People who do not believe in inspiration often object here. They say the writer of this introduction stands on the ground of an eyewitness and nothing more. But Luke does not say a word about setting out in order what eyewitnesses had delivered. Others, he said, had done that. That was not enough. He wrote his Gospel so that Theophilus might have certainty from him — the man who had "perfect knowledge" of all things. That is a clear statement that his account was infallible. And if so, it was certainly inspired, for no human account can be infallible.
This is why his work was needed: "If the 'many' who undertook the work had done it with the certainty required, there would have been no need for him" (William Kelly).
What Luke wrote for one reader still does its work.
As we go on we will see that he sometimes ignores historical order, so as to present things in a way that is moral and spiritual. Understanding that moral and spiritual order, and having the facts clearly in writing, would bring certainty to Theophilus, and it will bring it to us too. We see here how certainty is linked with the Holy Writings — the Word of God. If we did not have the Holy Writings, we would be certain of nothing.
Certainty also asks something of the reader: "What is revealed is meant to be searched into, and only then will we know that we know" (Plumstead Conference).
- Taught. A living voice had already taught Theophilus, the way a class is taught today.
- Written. Luke did not aim to add to what Theophilus knew. He aimed to confirm it, and he anchored the spoken lesson in a written record.
- Certain. The written word gives the certainty, not the teacher standing over it.
- Inspired. No one can give a certainty he does not have. Commentators read Luke's claim here as a claim to an infallible, inspired account, not just a well-researched one.
- Ours. The letter to one man became the Church's lasting instruction. Without the Holy Writings we would be certain of nothing, and what is written still rewards a search.
There was in the days of Herod, the king of Judaea, a certain priest, by name Zacharias, of the course of Abia, and his wife of the daughters of Aaron, and her name Elizabeth.
Luke's Gospel now names its first date and its first people: a king, a priest, a wife, and a week of temple duty. Every detail here is ordinary. Yet each one reports the state of Israel at the moment God broke a long silence.
Luke has told his friend why he writes. Now he starts the story itself, and he starts it plainly.
After this address to his friend, by way of introduction, Luke enters on his subject, great and blessed as it is, with all possible simplicity. Nothing can be more perfect in its season... It is like a simple story being told, a tale of other days, when truth used to be plain and unvarnished. The mind is held for a moment, charmed by the plainness of it — and yet by the skill of the divine hand, which leads the thoughts so gently into the deepest and most wonderful scenes.
The date is not neutral. Who Herod was, and where his family came from, shows how far Israel had fallen.
The Herods came from Idumea, and the Roman government made them rulers in name over Judea and Galilee. The name Idumea is the Greek equivalent of Edom, the land of the descendants of Esau. So the position of the Jews in the days of the Gospels was humiliating in the extreme. They were not only under the rule of the Gentile power at Rome, but a son of Esau ruled over them in the land. This order was not what God announced from the beginning — that, of Jacob and his brother, the "older shall serve the younger" (Gen. 25:23). But through the unfaithfulness of the chosen people, this divine order was reversed for the time, and Esau had the upper hand, though he was an enemy of God and His truth.
The phrase points to an arrangement set up long before and still running. Older translations spell Zechariah as "Zacharias."
Ezra restored the courses of the priests and Levites when the people came back from captivity (Ezra 6:18), and we find them still in operation in the New Testament. Zacharias, the father of John the Baptist, was of the course of Abia. This no doubt refers to Abijah, the eighth name listed in 1 Chronicles 24:10. At the end of his service he returned to his house (Luke 1:5, 23). The length of service was a week, beginning from the Sabbath.
The public state of things was ruined. That is not the whole picture.
There might be a foreign prince over them — an Edomite — and high priests in strange confusion, as we shall see shortly. Yet for all that, there was a priest properly married to one of the daughters of Aaron: Zacharias, of the course of Abia... The state of Israel was low, and outwardly most irregular. Still, in the middle of it all there were godly ones. The only thing that enabled anyone to walk in such a way in Israel was the faith of the coming Messiah, and this at least had not disappeared. On the contrary, God's Spirit was working in the hearts of a few, preparing them for the One who was coming.
Rank counts for nothing here.
Luke begins by speaking of the priesthood in Israel in the days of Herod. But he passes by the high priest and the other prominent men. He singles out Zacharias, an otherwise very ordinary priest, and his wife Elizabeth, both of the line of Aaron... They had no child and were advanced in age. So they were a fitting picture of Israel's condition of desolation, out of which only the grace of God can bring blessing.
The couple's names are not incidental.
For about 400 years the Lord had sent no communication to His people Israel. At last God breaks the silence of heaven... The names of the aged and devout couple are significant. Zacharias means "Jehovah remembers," and Elizabeth means "the oath of God." Join the two together and you have the sentence "Jehovah remembers the oath of God." The time of remembrance had come. Prophecy is about to be fulfilled.
- Remembered. Zacharias means "Jehovah remembers" and Elizabeth "the oath of God." Together they spell out what God was about to do after four hundred years of silence.
- Remembered under Herod. The date fixes the low point: an Edomite, a son of Esau, ruling the people he was meant to serve, under Rome.
- Remembered in the temple. Ezra's priestly courses were still turning. Abijah was the eighth, and each course served a week.
- Remembered in a few. In all the disorder, God's Spirit was working in a few. What kept them walking rightly was faith in the coming Messiah.
- Remembered through the overlooked. The high priest gets no mention. Grace starts with an ordinary childless couple, the picture of Israel's desolation.