
Jesus chose the Passover as the memorial that his sacrifice would fulfill. He is the perfect lamb whose blood saves us from death. Israel was protected from the angel of death through the lamb’s blood on their doorpost, and we’re saved from death through the blood of the lamb. Death is the consequence of sin. By saving us from sin, he saves us from death’s permanence. When we say that he saved us from our sins and he saved us from death, we’re saying exactly the same thing. The two are interchangeable. Without sin there is no death. Without forgiveness of those sins, there is no life.
Because of Jesus’s sacrifice and because he came back to life, taking a position at the Father’s right hand as our perfect high priest, he will save us from our own Egypt — this earth. Being saved from death isn’t where the Exodus story ended, right? Israel was also saved from a dysfunctional country. The Jewish people saw this parallel eight centuries before YHWH came to earth as Jesus (Is 65.17, 66.22). They were looking forward to the return of Eden, the perfect creation of the first time — before man had to fight the earth for food, and before woman had to experience pain in childbirth and submission to her husband.
Peter makes the comparison between the first destruction of earth and the second, and quotes Isaiah and Jesus when he says, “But according to his promise, we are waiting for a new heavens and a new earth where only goodness can live” (II Pt 3.13). This new earth does not have the curse God put on this earth when humanity sinned (Rv 22.3; Rom 8.15ff). The wording used II Pt and Rev 21, 22 strongly suggests a literal understanding of this teaching. The use of γης for earth (instead of κοσμος), the use of καινην for new (instead of νεος, though this is only suggestive and not something that stands alone as proof), and the use of παλλιγγενεσια (return to a former state) in Mt 19.28 all point to a literal understanding of this promise.
We can add to this the fact that the word “heaven” is ουρανος — a word that was primarily understood to mean “sky” by Greek speakers from the Classical period on. In its plural form — usually the dative plural ουρανοις or genitive plural ουρανους — it could be the realm of the stars (it also means “skies” when context demands). It was understood to be the place where God lives. Jesus said as much in Mt 6.9, 6.14, and 6.32 (and fifteen other passages, mostly in Matthew). Our ultimate destination is not figurative. No figurative interpretation appears to have existed before the Docetics and other gnostic groups came to prominence in the mid-to-late 1st century.
Salvation is not some intangible platitude or vaguely-defined ethereal existence. How would that produce effective anticipation or hope? It had to make sense to the people it was written to, and it had to use language native to their thinking. If not it wouldn’t have been as powerful.
