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The Titles of Jesus in Matthew

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Photo of name tags attached to a chain link fence
Daniel Thomas (2019), public domain

The names we call others provide a snapshot of our relationship. It is drastically different, for example, to hear a child refer to an adult as “Mr. Smith,” “Officer Thomas,” or “Daddy.”

Names and titles matter throughout the Scriptures, and I’ve recently started a project examining the use of titles and names for Jesus in the Gospels. My first article laid out my methodology and looked at the top 10 titles of Jesus in the Gospels.

In this article we’ll consider the titles used for Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew.

Top 5 Titles

By my accounting, there are 131 titles used for Jesus in Matthew. There are 443 in all four Gospels, so the titles in Matthew account for about 29.6% of the all titles. (Matthew contains about 28% of the verses in the Gospels.)

Here are the top 5 titles in Matthew.

  1. Son of Man (30 times)
  2. Lord (23 times)
  3. Christ (13 times)
  4. teacher (10 times)
  5. the child (9 times)

The next few entries on the list are also interesting: Son of David (8 times), Son of God (8 times), and Son (6 times). The top four titles used in Matthew are the same as the top four titles used in all the Gospels, just in a slightly different order.

Perhaps also of interest: the title “Lord” comes from Peter five times, and five of the 13 uses of “Christ” are by Matthew himself.

Titles Used by Matthew

Most of the titles used in the Gospels are put in the mouth of someone else by the Gospel author. But there are times when the author himself refers to a name or title of Jesus.

There are ten such occasions in Matthew. He refers to Jesus as “Christ” five times, as “the child” four times, and as the “Son of David” once. Nine of these occasions are found within the first two chapters of the Gospel; the other one (“the Christ”) is found in Matthew 11:2.

Old Testament References and “the child”

Matthew is the only Gospel writer who uses titles for Jesus within Old Testament quotations. He does this five times.

  • Immanuel (Matt 1:23)
  • ruler (Matt 2:6)
  • son (Matt 2:15)
  • servant (Matt 12:18)
  • beloved (Matt 12:18)

Another unique aspect of Matthew is that he is the only Gospel writer who uses the title/role “the child” to refer to Jesus—and he does this nine times. These all occur in the second chapter of Matthew, as we learn of the prophecy about the coming Messiah. This title is used by Matthew four times, by an angel of the Lord four times, and once by Herod.

Relation to Matthew’s Purpose

In my co-blogger Peter Krol’s series on the feeding of the 5000, he provided a nice overview of Matthew. In my article about the resurrection of Jesus in Matthew, I summarized Peter’s work this way.

Matthew wrote to convince his audience that Jesus was the king of the Jews. He spends much of his book explaining the kingdom of heaven and its subjects.

Given this purpose, it might be surprising not to find a title like “king” among the most-used in Matthew. (The title “king of the Jews” is only used four times in Matthew.)

We must remember, when looking at these titles of Jesus that I’ve compiled, that everything must be examined in context. We cannot draw any concrete conclusions by just counting occurrences or omissions. Further, different authors write differently—some might use titles more frequently, others might display Jesus as the king by showing him in kingly settings or performing kingly acts.

In what we have discussed so far, Matthew’s purpose is not hard to see. He is writing to a people who understood the Old Testament prophets, so references to “the child” (from Is 7:14) and other OT titles would situate Jesus within a rich, expectant tradition.

Matthew himself calls Jesus the “Son of David” once, and this title is used a total of eight times in this Gospel. (It is only used 12 times total in all Gospels.) We will explore these titles in a later article, but “Son of David,” “Son of God” (8 times), and even “Son” (6 times) are all royal titles. Even though the word “king” is not present, the first hearers of Matthew would have known Jesus was being described as the king.

Reading to Know Jesus

Looking at the titles used for Jesus can be interesting and illuminating, but let’s not leave it as a mere intellectual exercise. Matthew was not just writing to convey information; he wanted his readers to know that Jesus is the king of Israel.

By the titles he used, we know that Matthew did not just think of Jesus as a historical figure. He was the Christ, the promised Messiah, the one sent to save his people from their sins (Matt 1:21).

How Would They Have Applied It?

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In recent posts, I’ve been trying to help you get the most out of the interpretation phase of your study. We’ve considered different uses for different types of questions, the power of implicational questions, and the best place to find answers to your questions.

Another Angle

Another way to think of the value of implicational questions is that they help us to grasp how the original audience would have applied the text. When we ask our questions with the original audience in mind, we’re more likely to land on the true message and proper application of the text.

Our understanding of a text will be strongest—and therefore our application will hit home with greatest force—when it is very closely connected to the author’s primary intent for his audience.

So we do as much as we can to put ourselves in the shoes of those who first read this text, and to consider what this passage calls them to believe, love, or do.

Photo by Allan Mas

To do this, we must pull together all of our work in observation and interpretation so far. All our questions and answers, along with our work on the context: historical, biblical, and literary.

An Example

In Proverbs 31:1-9, King Lemuel’s mother offers him wise counsel for kings and rulers. She tells him what not to do with his strength (Prov 31:3) and mouth (Prov 31:4-5), and she promotes what he ought to do with his mouth (Prov 31:8-9a) and strength (Prov 31:9b). There is a time an place for forgetting (Prov 31:6-7), but during one’s exercise of kingly rule is not it (Prov 31:4-5).

Thus far my observation, with some progress on definitive, rational, and implicational questions. But how would the original audience have applied this poem?

It may be tempting to go directly to contemporary application, considering how we make use of our own strength and mouth, and whether we employ them to wise, selfless, and just ends. Such time would certainly be profitable, but perhaps a less direct route will lay an even stronger foundation for application.

The book of Proverbs is something of a manual for training up nobles and rulers in Israel. When Solomon speaks to “my son” in chapters 1-9, he is speaking not only to his direct heir but also to all the youth among the nobility (see where Prov 4:1, 24:21, etc., where the “sons” are either plural or are not in direct line to the throne). So if we apply every passage directly to the Christian “everyman,” we lose something of the book’s focus on training leaders.

The people of Israel hearing Proverbs 31:1-9 may not have immediately considered how they used their own strength or mouth. After all, many of them would be in the category of those for whom it would be appropriate to forget their poverty (Prov 31:6-7)!

Instead, upon hearing this text, they would be far more inclined to consider what sort of king they need to rule them in wisdom. They might expect their king to take this poem more personally than they themselves do. And if he wouldn’t, they would keep waiting and watching for another such king to arise.

Such consideration of the original audience helps us to see Christ more clearly in the text. And since we have been united to him through faith, it remains appropriate to apply the text to us today. But having gone through Christ to get to application, we’ve ratcheted up the urgency and persuasiveness.

One Caution

In order to determine a text’s implications on the original audience, we must be able to identify who that original audience is. Such identification is quite tricky for narratives, for at least two reasons.

The first reason is that we often don’t know who the precise audience was. It would be difficult to nail down exactly which generation was the first audience for Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1-2 Samuel, or Esther. We can’t be too precise about the audience for some of the gospels, as we’re not told. In all such cases, we must remain fuzzy, though it still helps to know “these people needed a king,” or “these people must have been Jewish Christians.”

The second reason the identification is tricky is that we often confuse the text’s audience with the text’s characters. So when studying the sermon on the Mount, we might find ourselves putting ourselves in the shoes of those who were present, listening to the sermon as Jesus preached it. But instead, we ought to put ourselves in the shoes of those reading the book that Matthew wrote.

So the implications of the text on the characters within the text might help you to understand the text. But what’s even more significant is to grasp the implications of the text on those who first read the text.

Conclusion

When you can clearly answer the question of “how would they have applied it?” you’ll be far more likely to get a strong answer to “how should we apply it?”

Why the Spirit is Willing but the Flesh is Weak

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Zach Hollifield has a wonderful article where he makes a keen observation and asks a crucial rational interpretive question:

It’s when Jesus returns from his own prayer to find them snoozing that he utters the infamous line “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” …

Matthew and Mark go out of their way to make it clear that Jesus says this to Peter and Peter alone. Mark even quotes Jesus as beginning the statement with, “Simon, are you asleep—?” Jesus finds all three sleeping, and yet when he makes the statement about the spirit being willing and flesh being weak, he says it directly to just one disciple. Why?

Hollifield finds in the text compelling answers to his question, leading to some really helpful application. This is a great example of strong Bible study skills.

Check it out!

Units of Thought in Discourse

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One of the most important observations to make in a passage is the structure. And the way to observe structure is to first identify the parts of the passage (the units of thought) so that you can figure out how those parts relate to one another. In this post I’ll show you some of the ways to recognize the units of thought in a discourse.

What is a Discourse?

Discourse is one of the three text types in Scripture. A discourse is simply a passage where someone is speaking. It could be a speech or sermon. It could be a law code. It could be a letter. It could be a prose prophetic text. But when someone is speaking or teaching, a few particular tools will help us to discern the units of thought in that speech.

Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash

Logical Connectors

The first thing to look for is logical connectors. These are words or phrases that signal the movement from one idea to another. Such words include because, since, however, therefore, consequently, for this reason, finally, and many more.

It’s important to observe the use of such logical connectors, but it’s even more important to figure out how they are being used. For example, the word “but” could signal a very narrow and particular contrast between two words (e.g. the contrast between “bronze bases” and “silver hooks” in Ex 38:17). It could signal a larger contrast between clauses (e.g. the contrast between “the patriarchs sold him into Egypt” and “God was with him” in Acts 7:9). Or it could signal a larger contrast between sections or units of thought (e.g. the contrast between “you were” in Eph 2:1-3 and “but God” in Eph 2:4-6).

Noticing these larger, discourse-level transitions (not just word-level or clause-level transitions) helps us to follow the author’s larger argument by identifying his units of thought. For example, in Ephesians, after the blessing of God in Eph 1:3-14, the connector words “for this reason” (Eph 1:15) signal the next section. And there is no discourse-level connector word again until the “therefore” of Eph 2:11. This suggests that Eph 1:15-2:10 are a single unit of thought, explaining Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians to perceive their union with Christ. And the “therefore” section of Eph 2:11-22 explains the practical implications of such union of the entire community with Christ (and therefore with one another).

Transitional and Thesis Statements

In a modern-day sermon, you might hear the preacher say “My first point is…” or “Having seen [the first point], that leads us to consider the matter of [the second point].” These are the sorts of transitional words and phrases speakers use to let their audience know they are moving from one idea to the next. Some biblical discourses do the same thing.

For example, Hebrews 1:4 states a thesis that the Son of God is superior to angels because he has inherited a superior name. Heb 1:5-14 then explains the superiority of the Son, and Heb 2:5-18 demonstrates his superior name. Though there is some application in the middle (Heb 2:1-4), Heb 1:4-2:18 makes one complete unit of thought.

Another example: Eccl 11:7-8 states a thesis that because light is pleasant for the eyes, we ought to rejoice in what God gives and remember that dark days are coming. Eccl 11:9-10 then expands on the command to rejoice in God’s gift of life, and Eccl 12:1-7 expands on the command to remember the Creator before the dark days of old age threaten your joy.

One more example: In the second half of 1 Corinthians, Paul introduces each section with a transitional “concerning [the matters about which you wrote.” These transitional statements clearly inform us how to understand each section, so that we don’t get lost in the details. 1 Cor 7 deals with sexual relationships. 1 Cor 8-11 addresses the matter of food offered to idols. 1 Cor 12-14 covers the topic of spiritual things or spiritual people (the word “gifts” does not appear in the Greek of 1 Cor 12:1 but is added by translators).

Shifts in Content

When distinguishing units of thought in discourse, one final tool to keep in mind is straightforward shifts in content. We see such shifts clearly in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount where he uses very few direct transitions or connectors. After the blessings (Matt 5:3-12) he discusses salt and light (Matt 5:13-16) and the proper understanding of the Law and the Prophets, against Pharisaic oral tradition (Matt 5:17-48).

Then he does offer a thesis statement in Matt 6:1 to warn us of practicing righteousness before other people, and his shifts in content from giving (Matt 6:2-4) to prayer (Matt 6:5-15) to fasting (Matt 6:16-18) mark the subdivisions under that larger thesis.

Finally, he concludes the sermon with discussion of treasure (Matt 6:19-34), true and false judgments (Matt 7:1-20), and hearing and doing (Matt 7:21-27).

Embedded Discourse

One special type of discourse to watch for is embedded discourse, which is when a speech is placed within another kind of text, such as a narrative. When we’re dealing with embedded discourse, we must not only look for structural markers within the discourse itself. We must also pay close attention to the narrative markers that show the author’s larger purpose.

The Sermon on the Mount is embedded within Matthew’s larger narrative. So while the shifts in content help us to observe structural units of thought within the speech, we must also take note of the narrative frame in Matt 4:23-5:2 and Matt 7:28-29 to grasp not only Jesus’ point but also Matthew’s larger point in recounting the sermon.

Another example: In the Flood narrative, notice the narrative markers “And God said to Noah” (Gen 6:13) and “Then the LORD aid to Noah” (Gen 7:1). Prior to the Flood, God makes two speeches to Noah. We ought not squish them together, as though they were a single set of instructions. The narrator signals that God had two points to make or two sets of instructions for Noah.

Similarly, in Genesis 17, the narrative markers of Gen 17:1, 9, 15, and 22 mark three distinct speeches of God. God had something to say about himself (Gen 17:1-8). Something about Abram (Gen 17:9-14). Something about Sarai (Gen 17:15-21). And then he was done (Gen 27:22). Simply observe how the discourse has been embedded within the narrative, and you have immediately found the main units of thought and thereby the structure.

Conclusion

Discourse texts are some of the most beloved passages in all the Scripture. But we must be careful, for it is remarkably easy to get lost in the details. Employ these four tools—logical connectors, transitional and thesis statements, content shifts, and narrative markers for embedded discourse—to help you find the units of thought, and you’ll be well on your way to grasping the passage’s structure. This matters, because only once you’ve grasped the structure will you be able to draw credible and defensible conclusions about the passage’s main idea.

The Problem with Jesus’ Genealogies

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The Advent season is a great time to revisit the opening chapters of the gospels, which often brings people to consider afresh the genealogies of Jesus presented in Matthew 1 and Luke 3. And you don’t have to go very far into those genealogies to recognize a few major issues.

The first and clearest issue is that the two genealogies are completely different in the generations from David to Jesus! And a second issue that arises from deeper digging is that Matthew presents Jesus as the descendant of a man (Jeconiah) whom God has promised would never have descendants sit on the throne of Israel (Jer 22:30).

What do we make of these issues? Robby Lashua is here to help. In this brief piece he considers these issues and explains a solution.

If Jesus is truly the prophesied Messiah, as much of the world will celebrate this Christmas, he must be a descendant of David. Thankfully, the genealogies of Jesus show that David was, in fact, his ancestor. But there’s a problem in the genealogies—actually, there are two problems.

Check it out!

Check the Context Before and After

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As we’ve sought to demonstrate that literary context matters, we’ve focused primarily on specific verses or short segments of text that are commonly used without regard for the author’s argument to his original audience. But there is another way to make use of literary context in our Bible study, which is simply to pay attention to the texts immediately before and after the text under study. This practice aids interpretation by helping us identify not only what a passage says but also what it is doing to assist the author’s larger argument.

Here are some examples.

Photo by Vladimír Sládek

Help from the Preceding Text

2 Kings 2 tells the story of Elijah’s ascension into heaven and Elisha’s taking up the prophetic mantle from his mentor. A quick look at what comes immediately before reveals a king who died without a son (2 Kings 1:17-18). That setup (that King Ahaziah has no heir) introduces the chief concern that chapter 2 takes up: What will happen when Elijah goes? Will Israel be left without a prophetic voice?

The armor of God passage in Ephesians 6 begins with an overarching command that governs the rest of the passage: “Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might” (Eph 6:10). We ought to ask: How does one do that? What does it look like for someone to draw strength / be strengthened by the Lord and his strength? Perhaps help can be found immediately prior? In Paul’s command to masters, he suggests that the power to do good to their servants and cease with threatening comes from “knowing that he who is both their Master and your is in heaven, and that there is no partiality with him” (Eph 6:9). So a spiritual battle requires heavenly strength, which will come from trusting that Jesus is seated in heaven, far above all rule and authority (Eph 1:19-21), and giving good gifts to men (Eph 4:7-14).

Help from the Following Text

Genesis 38 tells a dark and tragic story about Judah, his sons, a daughter-in-law, and his eventual heir. Besides the dark content, it is especially strange for having been inserted right in the midst of a larger narrative that is supposed to be about Joseph. In fact, Gen 37:36 and Gen 39:1 repeat the same information in order to signal the fact that the main story line is being put on hold just to narrate Judah’s situation (which took place not all at once but over many years). Just keep reading into chapter 39 to see a number of clear contrasts between the half-brothers Judah and Joseph: experience of power, figurative use of garments, perspective toward God’s moral commands.

In Matthew 4:12-25, Jesus begins his public ministry, and Matthew describes it in a way that parallels Isaiah’s prophecy of a dawning light (Matt 4:15-16): beginning in Zebulun and Naphtali (Matt 4:12-17), passing by the way of the sea (Matt 4:18-22), and going beyond the Jordan (Matt 4:23-25). The next passage informs us that the light is here (speaking with the authority of God from the mountaintop – Matt 5:1-12) and is infecting the new people of God (Matt 5:13-16).

Help from both Before and After

Revelation 4 describes a magnificent scene of the vigorous worship offered in heaven to the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come. Immediately prior to this scene, Jesus comes knocking on the door and inviting those who persevere in bearing witness to him to join him on his throne, just as he joined his Father on his throne (Rev 3:20-21). That highlights the significance of Jesus’ own invitation to witness the scene of heavenly worship (Rev 4:1). In addition, the following scene (Rev 5) shows Jesus himself as the only one worthy to receive authority from the Father to execute judgment on the earth. He acquired such authority through his death and resurrection (Rev 5:6). Noticing the flow of thought helps us to preach the gospel very specifically from each text. In chapter 4, the gospel is not one of death and resurrection, particularly, but of Jesus opening the way to the Father. In chapter 5, this gospel is fleshed out by showing how Jesus opened that way and became qualified to receive all authority in heaven and on earth.

Matthew 8:23-9:8 contains three brief narratives of Jesus performing great miracles. The stories hang together as a unity to explain Jesus’ great authority, on both heaven (Matt 8:28-34) and earth (Matt 8:23-27), to forgive sins (Matt 9:1-8). So much, so good, but look at how much more the surrounding context adds. Immediately before, we have would-be followers of Jesus confronted with the great cost of following Jesus (Matt 8:18-22); the question of whether they are willing to pay that cost is left hanging and unanswered. And immediately after, we see not a “would-be” but an actual follower of Jesus responding immediately to the call (Matt 9:9-12). Perhaps the chain of three miracles is there to explain what makes the difference. To explain the chief reason why it is worth paying the cost to follow Jesus. Can sick sinners find authority like this anywhere else?

Conclusion

Whenever you study a passage, one simple discipline to develop is to look at what happens immediately before and after. As you do, consider how those surrounding texts help you to understand what your passage is doing in the larger argument. In just a few minutes of effort, you may get significant help toward interpreting the main point of your passage.

Why Jesus is in the Midst of the Gathered Two or Three

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I’ve written before of the promise of Matthew 18:20 (“For where two or three are gathered…”) in context. Because context matters, and it is abundantly clear that the “two or three” are not the folks who show up to your prayer meeting.

Amy K. Hall recently published a terrific piece making the same point, and I recommend you check it out. Not only because she agrees with me and makes the same point I do. But because she sees something I never noticed about why Jesus promises to be with these two or three folks who represent him. The allusion to 2 Chronicles 19:5-7 is quite remarkable.

Check it out!

Who is the Parable of the Tenants About?

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In a back issue of Tabletalk magazine, Charles K. Telfer has a helpful piece on the parable of the tenants (Matt 21:33-46). In this parable, Jesus describes a vineyard owner who sends his representative to collect fruit from those who have rented the vineyard, who refuse to hand it over. They kill each messenger, up to and including the owner’s own son. The vineyard owner then declares war on the rebels and hands his vineyard over to others who will serve him more faithfully.

In the course of explaining the parable, Telfer makes an important move. He does not immediately look for what the parable says about us, as so many are so quick to do when they study the Scriptures. First, Telfer looks for what the parable says about them—those to whom Jesus was speaking, and especially those to whom Matthew was writing.

The initial historical fulfillment of these prophecies took place in the disasters of AD 66–70 and 132–35, when the Romans destroyed the temple, the city of Jerusalem, and most of the leaders of the people.

This leads him to some crucial conclusions about Jesus’ purpose in this parable:

Look at what Jesus underlines as the foundational offense: rejecting Him. Jesus puts Himself forward as the Son in special relationship with the Father. C.S. Lewis argues cogently that no one can take Jesus as just another good moral teacher. He must be either the Messiah or a megalomaniac. Jesus claims that rejecting Him is the climactic act that leads to judgment. Jesus puts Himself at the center of Yahweh’s purposes in the way He quotes the Old Testament in the parable. In verse 42, He applies Psalm 118:22–23 to Himself: “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone” (see Isa. 28:16). In essence, Jesus is asserting, “The powerful may consider Me a valueless reject, but God will do marvels through Me and give Me a kingdom.” More soberly still, in Matthew 21:44, Jesus presents Himself as the dangerous stone (Isa. 8:14; Dan. 2:34, 44). “Don’t brush Me aside!” He is saying.

And then—get this!—Telfer shows how the early church made application from this parable, and he draws some compelling applications for us today.

Telfer’s analysis is a great example of how our application for people today will be even stronger if we don’t go there too quickly. Go the long way around, by first making sure you’ve grasped how the passage spoke to the original audience, pointing them to Jesus. And then your application for today will connect with much greater force.

Please take a look at how Telfer does this. Check it out!

The Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard

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In Matthew 20:1-16, Jesus tells a famous parable about the owner of a vineyard who hires workers all throughout the day, paying them all the same amount at day’s end. What is the point of this parable?

Jonathan T. Pennington seeks to answer that question, not by digging deep within his own speculations, nor by staring at the sky. He examines historic traditions of interpretation from the context.

In the history of the church, there have been many attempted explanations of this parable. Some suggest the five different hirings represent five stages of world history during which God has called people to Himself, or different stages in life that one may become a Christian. The point, then, is that God is gracious to all and welcomes all into His kingdom, no matter when they were called. Some say the parable is a picture of God’s future kingdom where all saved people receive heaven, no matter how much they have worked for God. The broadest and maybe most popular interpretation is that this parable is simply a picture of God’s incredible and marvelous grace and generosity—the gospel in a nutshell.

Each of these interpretations has some truth in it. But there is something more to be seen. The key is to pay attention to the context that Matthew gives us for this parable.

I encourage you to read his brief piece for another clear example of why context matters.

Check it out!

Binding and Loosing in Matthew 16:19

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The Logos blog has a helpful piece from Murray J. Harris on the meaning of the terms “bind” and “loose” in Matthew 16:19. When Jesus entrusts to Peter the “keys of the kingdom,” along with the authority to bind and loose, to what is he referring?

Whenever evangelists affirm that all those who repent and believe in Jesus Christ have their sins forgiven, they are declaring that such people are “loosed” and have entered the kingdom. In this declaration, they are dramatizing on earth the standing verdict that heaven (= God) has already made. Similarly, those who remain unrepentant unbelievers are “bound,” and the kingdom is shut against them. Heaven has already affirmed this truth, for “salvation is found in no one else” than Jesus the Cornerstone (Acts 4:11–12).

Harris makes his case from the context of Matthew and other ancient Jewish literature. He models good contextual work to help answer a thorny question, and he draws useful implications for what this does and doesn’t mean for churches and church leaders today.

Check it out!