Tag: Son of man

The Judas Kiss

t’s a gesture that’s supposed to mean friendship but instead marks Jesus for arrest. It’s an account packed with practical lessons about loyalty, choices, and God’s bigger plan, and it’s worth unpacking for anyone trying to make sense of life’s problems. 

Carl Pollard

The kiss of Judas, described in Matthew 26:47-50, Mark 14:43-45, and Luke 22:47-48, is one of those Bible moments that many are familiar with. Judas Iscariot, one of Jesus’ inner circle, betrays him with a kiss. It’s a gesture that’s supposed to mean friendship but instead marks Jesus for arrest. It’s an account packed with practical lessons about loyalty, choices, and God’s bigger plan, and it’s worth unpacking for anyone trying to make sense of life’s problems. 

In the time of Jesus, a kiss was like giving a handshake or a hug, something you’d share with someone you cared about. So when Judas uses it to sell Jesus out to the authorities, it makes his betrayal that more messed up. The Bible uses a Greek word, phileo, meaning an affectionate kiss, which makes it sting even more. Judas was close to Jesus, one of the twelve, and he twists that bond into betrayal. It’s like a friend smiling to your face while stabbing you in the back. We’ve all felt versions of that. Someone you trusted letting you down when you needed them most. 

But regardless of what Judas did, and how he did it, this moment fits into God’s plan. Jesus knew it was coming (John 13:26-27), yet Judas still had a choice. In Luke 22:48, Jesus calls him out mid-betrayal: “Judas, you’re betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?” This is more than a question, it’s Jesus highlighting the irony and heartbreak. Judas chose greed (30 pieces of silver) over loyalty, but God used that choice to set up the crucifixion and resurrection, the cornerstone of Christianity. It’s a reminder that even our worst moments can be part of something bigger.

The kiss also echoes the Old Testament, like Proverbs 27:6: “The kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” Judas’ act is a textbook example, but Jesus doesn’t lash out. He calls Judas “friend” (Matthew 26:50), showing love even in betrayal. What a powerful example. 

For us, the kiss of Judas is a mirror. It asks: Are we honest with the people in our lives? Do our actions match our words? It’s easy to point fingers at Judas, but we’ve all got moments where we’ve let someone down or acted hypocritical. Yet the story also offers hope, God can take our flawed human decisions and weave them into something to His glory. Judas’ kiss led to the cross, where love conquered death. That’s a truth worth holding onto.

“Son of Man”: Ezekiel, Jesus, and the Pattern of Prophetic Humility

God repeatedly reminds Ezekiel that he is not superhuman. He is a mortal man, chosen to carry the very words of God to a rebellious and hard-hearted people. His identity itself—son of man—becomes a walking testimony to humility.

Brent Pollard

When God called Ezekiel to his prophetic ministry, He chose not to address him by name, but by a title that would echo through the corridors of time: “Son of Man.” Ezekiel heard this title over ninety times from God’s lips throughout the book that bears his name. The Hebrew, ben adam, means “descendant of man” or “human one.” At first glance, it might seem like a poetic flourish. Since the title “son of man” is intentionally repeated and later used by Jesus of Nazareth, we should pause and ask: Why did He choose this title for both figures?

Isaiah may rightly bear the title “Messianic Prophet” for his remarkable prophecies of Christ’s birth, suffering, and coming reign (Isaiah 7.14; 9.6; 53). But Ezekiel’s role as “son of man” unveils something equally profound—it foreshadows the very form the Messiah would take, especially in His humble incarnation and prophetic ministry.

A Title That Humbles and Separates

Adam Clarke observed with penetrating insight that this term serves to humble Ezekiel, preventing him from being exalted in his mind because of the extraordinary revelations granted to him. Here is God’s gentle yet firm reminder of Ezekiel’s frailty and mortality—set against the backdrop of those overwhelming divine visions, particularly that awe-inspiring glimpse of the Almighty’s throne in Ezekiel 1. Matthew Henry echoes this truth, observing that despite the abundance of revelations, Ezekiel remains “a son of man, a mean, weak, mortal creature.”

God repeatedly reminds Ezekiel that he is not superhuman. He is a mortal man, chosen to carry the very words of God to a rebellious and hard-hearted people. His identity itself—son of man—becomes a walking testimony to humility.

John Gill observes deeper significance in this choice, noting that this title connects Ezekiel to the coming Christ. He points out that “this is a name which our Lord frequently took to himself in his state of humiliation” and that “the reason of it is, because he was an eminent type of Christ.” Thus, “son of man” becomes more than humiliation—it points forward to the One who would perfectly embody both human weakness and divine mission.

Prophetic Suffering and True Representation

Beyond its humbling power, the term “son of man” positions Ezekiel as one who truly represents his people. He stands not as an outsider hurling judgment from afar, but as a fellow exile (Ezekiel 1.1-3). God called Ezekiel to speak as one of them—and more, to suffer in symbolic ways that would paint vivid pictures of their coming condition (Ezekiel 4–5).

Burton Coffman observes that Ezekiel’s very actions embodied the message he delivered: lying upon his side for appointed days, shaving his head with a sword, cooking with defiled fuel, refusing to mourn when his beloved wife died—each act a living parable of Israel’s approaching judgment. In this suffering service, Ezekiel points forward to a greater Prophet yet to come, One who would bear not symbolic griefs but actual sorrows, not representative suffering but substitutionary sacrifice.

Daniel’s Vision: The Title Transformed

In Daniel 7.13-14, something remarkable happens. “Son of Man” takes on entirely different colors. Daniel sees in his night visions “one like a son of man” coming with the clouds of heaven, receiving dominion that shall never pass away. What a contrast! Ezekiel’s “son of man” is lowly, suffering, and representative of human weakness. Daniel’s “Son of Man” is exalted, glorious, clothed with eternal authority.

Yet both point toward the same magnificent Person: Jesus Christ. In the Gospels, our Lord refers to Himself as “the Son of Man” more than eighty times—more than any other title He claims. In taking this name, Jesus gathers up both streams—Ezekiel’s humble suffering and Daniel’s eternal glory.

Jesus bears the full weight of human suffering, as Ezekiel did in shadow and type. Yet He also inherits that eternal kingdom promised in Daniel’s soaring vision.

Ezekiel: Pattern of the Incarnate Christ

Here then is the glory of it: if Isaiah introduces us to the person and mission of the coming Messiah, Ezekiel shows us the very form He would take—a suffering servant, fully human, yet burning with divine purpose. The constant repetition of “son of man” in Ezekiel prepares our hearts to recognize the breathtaking paradox of the incarnation itself—God in human flesh, humble yet holy, obedient unto death, acquainted with our griefs (Isaiah 53.3; Philippians 2.5-8).

Jesus, the true and ultimate Son of Man, fulfilled every aspect of Ezekiel’s prophecy, not only through His words but also through His life. He was the ideal representative of all people, carrying God’s final message as well as everyone’s sins.

Conclusion: The Seed of Eternal Purpose

It was not God’s caprice leading him to employ the phrase “son of man” to reference Ezekiel. The expression was a designation of Ezekiel’s humanity, prophetic duty, and role as the people’s representative. Yet, we understand it also served as a divinely planted seed, preparing hearts and minds to understand the Messiah—not only as conquering King and eternal Savior, but as One who would walk among us in perfect humility and carry all our sorrows.

In this “son of man,” we glimpse the wisdom of our God, who chooses frail vessels for eternal purposes—and who, when the fullness of time had come, became one Himself.

“Son of Man” represents grace beyond measure since the God calling a mortal man by that title would Himself take it for Himself, taking our nature and our place—that we might share in His glory forever.

“Who Do People Say I Am?”

Neal Pollard

Mark 8:27ff is the pivotal moment of Mark’s gospel. Before the conversation in this section of Scripture, Mark records 20 miracles performed by Jesus. There are only six miracles recorded in the last half of Mark, which follows this conversation. People have been marveling at Jesus and people have been trying to determine who He is. So Jesus’ question here, “Who do people say that I am?,” is not just important for the disciples walking with Jesus in Mark 8, but for those of us who read the book today. Notice a few answers we glean from Mark 8:27-9:1.

He is “Jesus” (27). The name means “Savior,” and is, in fact, the Greek form of the Hebrew name “Joshua” (“Jehovah saves”). Matthew connects the name and the person of this Jesus with the salvation He came to bring. An angel of the Lord explains to Joseph, “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for the Child who has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. She will bear a Son; and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins” (1:20-21).  “Jesus” also expresses His humanity, as it is the name He goes by and even used with His hometown when He is called “Jesus of Nazareth” (1:24; 10:47). The fact that my Savior shares my humanity encourages me. I know He can empathize with me (Heb. 2:14; 4:15; 5:7). 

He is “Christ” (29). While this designation of Jesus is found seven times in the gospel, He does not use it of Himself until after Peter confesses Him to be the Christ (9:41; 12:35; 13:21). It is this claim that enrages the High Priest (14:61) and draws the mockery of the crowd at His crucifixion (15:32). “Christ” means “anointed one” or “Messiah.” In the Old Testament, the anticipated deliverer is called “Anointed” (Ps. 2:2) and “Messiah” (Dan. 9:25-26). Kings (1 Sam. 24:7), priests (Lev. 4:3), and the patriarchs (Ps. 105:15) are said to be anointed. All of these have connection to Jesus. He came to become “King of kings” (1 Tim. 6:15; Rev. 17:14; 19:16). He is our great High Priest (Heb. 4:14). Those patriarchs are part of the Messianic lineage. No wonder Jesus (John 14:6) and His disciples (Acts 4:12) communicate that salvation from sin can only come through Him. Peter correctly discerned that Jesus is no mere prophet or harbinger. He is the expected deliverer. I must come to, live with, and share with others this conviction! That fact is the central difference in how I live my daily life!

He is “Son of Man” (31,38). Jesus connects this designation with more than one thing. First, He connects it to His upcoming suffering, death, and resurrection (31). Then, He connects it to His Lordship (8:34-9:1). Properly understood, “Son of Man” will “convey if possible a (messianic) sense of dignity, authority, and responsibility. Strictly to be avoided is any translation which would equate the title merely with ‘man,’ ‘a human being” (Bratcher-Nida, Handbook on Mark, 81). It is Mark’s most common designation for Jesus, found thirteen times in this book (2:10,28; 8:31,38; 9:9,12,31; 10:33,45; 13:26; 14:21,41,62). But by using this designation, which Jews would equate with authority and majesty (Dan. 7:13-14), Jesus is connecting dots in revealing the great mystery of God’s eternal plan. The majestic Messiah was about to suffer. It’s this aspect that Paul shares with us in the necessary development of our mindset, illustrated by God emptying Himself and lowering Himself for the purpose of sacrificing His life for us (Phil. 2:5-8). When I consider this designation for my Savior, I am reminded of the greatness of service and His worthiness to be completely followed and obeyed. But, His suffering does not indicate weakness, but rather power (9:1). The Lamb will one day be the Judge. 

In his book The Essence Of Life: The Book Of Answers, Ralph B. Smith noted that children ask 125 questions per day (many parents can attest to this being a reasonable estimation). Adults ask only six questions per day, on average. Yet, there is one question we all must ask and properly answer. Who do we say that He is (29)? Is He my Savior? Is He my King and High Priest? Is He my Deliverer? Is He my Lord and Master? Is He my Authority? He must be my everything and my all! If not, I have missed who He is but I will also miss all He came to offer. I cannot do that! 

Off Your Face & On Your Feet (Part 2)

Dale Pollard

Six hundred years before Christ would make His providential appearance, a righteous man finds himself in captivity. While exiled, Ezekiel was able to witness the spirit of God in a very intimate way. Even so, he was still living under the thumb of the Babylonians just like every other Israelite with him. Even while living in these unideal circumstances he is privileged to see awe inspiring visions from God. 

After years spent with no success or response from his people, Ezekiel has become frustrated with the fact that Israel won’t listen to him or Him. He’s lost hope in their ability to change— they’re just too far gone. Chapter nineteen is one long lament as Ezekiel cries over his hard-hearted Israelite brothers. Why won’t they listen to him? Even after Ezekiel performs some radical visual illustrations like eating his bread over dung and laying on his side for an entire year, they won’t respond to the “invitation.” God never abandons His faithful servant but His confused prophet is still left to wonder what God is going to do about the mess which makes up his reality. A familiar feeling for Christians to this day.  

At this low point Ezekiel is then taken even lower. God takes him to the bottom of a valley where piled on its floor is— death. Heaps of dry human bones; not belonging to strangers but of fellow Israelites. He may have wondered why God decided to bring him to such a terrible place. Maybe his view of God was an embittered one and so he wasn’t that surprised. After all, God allowed him to endure misery from the beginning of his prophetic ministry. He faced more hardship than even the godless captives that he was called to preach to. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been too out of character, in Ezekiel’s mind, for God to now bring him into a valley of bones. 

God asks His servant a question, “Can these dry bones live again?” Ezekiel’s response isn’t one of confidence and certainty but rather a safe, “O Lord, only you know.”  

The God of Resurrection doesn’t bring the vast pile of Israelite bones to life in the blink of an eye— though we know He could have. Instead, He allows Ezekiel to hear the bones, flesh, and sinews as they rattled (literally, rumbled) together (37.7).  He wanted the “Son of man” to see and hear His hand at work in a way that was and is— unforgettable. God’s desire was to leave a lasting impression on Ezekiel and to demonstrate the might of the Almighty. Ezekiel didn’t know how God brought the bones to life, but he knew God did it. You may not understand why God has allowed you to enter your valley, but you can be certain that He has the power to see you through it.