Chapter 19

Colossians 1:15–20 and Philippians 2:9–11—Cosmic Reconciliation and Every Knee

Introduction: Two Passages That Changed Everything

I want to tell you about the day I first really saw Colossians 1:20. I had read it a hundred times. I could quote it from memory. But one afternoon, sitting at my kitchen table with a Greek New Testament, a cup of coffee, and an honest heart, the words hit me like a freight train. Paul did not write that God would defeat all things through Christ. He did not write that God would destroy all things. He did not write that God would subdue all things. He wrote that God would reconcile all things. And suddenly I could not un-see it.

That word—reconcile—changed the entire landscape of my theology. Because you cannot reconcile someone by annihilating them. You cannot reconcile a relationship by ending the existence of one party. Reconciliation, by its very nature, requires two parties brought back together in peace. And Paul said God was going to do this for all things.

In this chapter, we are going to look closely at two of the most powerful universalist texts in the entire New Testament: Colossians 1:15–20 and Philippians 2:9–11. These passages, taken together, paint a picture of cosmic reconciliation that is breathtaking in its scope and unmistakable in its meaning. If we take Paul at his word—and I believe we must—then the conclusion is hard to avoid: God’s plan is not merely to save some, or even most, but to reconcile every single created thing to Himself through the blood of Christ’s cross. Every knee will bow. Every tongue will confess. And that confession will be genuine, willing, and Spirit-empowered.

These are not obscure proof-texts yanked out of context. These are some of the most theologically dense, carefully composed, and widely studied passages in the Pauline letters. They sit at the heart of Paul’s Christology—his understanding of who Jesus is and what Jesus has accomplished. And what they say, when we listen carefully, is that the scope of Christ’s redemptive work matches the scope of His creative work. Everything He made, He will restore. Not partially. Not for the lucky few. Completely and for all.

So let’s open our Bibles, look at the Greek, listen to the scholars, and see what Paul actually said. I think you will find it more beautiful—and more radical—than you expected.

The Christ Hymn: Colossians 1:15–20

Setting the Stage

Colossians 1:15–20 is often called the “Christ Hymn” or the “Colossian Poem.” Most New Testament scholars agree that Paul is either quoting an early Christian hymn or composing one himself. Either way, what we have here is one of the earliest and most exalted statements about who Christ is and what He has done. It is theology set to music. And its claims are staggering.¹

Before we dig into the details, I want you to imagine the original setting. Picture a small house church in the city of Colossae—perhaps twenty or thirty believers gathered in someone’s home. They are surrounded by a culture of pagan worship, emperor cults, and philosophical speculation about cosmic powers. Into this setting, Paul sends a letter containing this extraordinary hymn about who Jesus really is: the image of the invisible God, the one through whom all things were made, the head of the church, the firstborn from the dead. And then, as the hymn reaches its crescendo, Paul makes a claim that must have taken their breath away: through this Jesus, God will reconcile all things to Himself. Not some things. Not most things. All things. The principalities and powers that filled their world with fear? Reconciled. The spiritual forces they had been taught to dread? Reconciled. Every corner of creation that had been fractured by sin and rebellion? Restored through the blood of the cross.

This would have been revolutionary. In a world full of fear about hostile spiritual powers, Paul declared that even those powers would be reconciled. That is the context in which we need to read this passage.

The poem has two halves, and the structure matters enormously. The first half (verses 15–17) celebrates Christ’s role in creation. The second half (verses 18–20) celebrates His role in redemption. And the whole point of the poem is that these two roles mirror each other perfectly. The same Christ who created all things is the one who reconciles all things. The scope of redemption matches the scope of creation. Not a smaller scope. Not a partial scope. The same scope.²

Let me lay out the two halves side by side so you can see the parallel for yourself:

In the first half, Paul writes that “in him all things were created—things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him” (1:16).

In the second half, Paul writes that God was pleased “through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, making peace through the blood of his cross” (1:20).

Do you see it? The “all things” that were created in verse 16 are the same “all things” that are reconciled in verse 20. The phrase “things in heaven and on earth” appears in both halves. The parallel is deliberate, unmistakable, and theologically loaded. As Robin Parry puts it, the poem is “quite unambiguous about the extent of the reconciliation Christ has effected through his cross. The ‘all things’ that are reconciled in verse 20 are, without any doubt, the same ‘all things’ that are created in verse 16. In other words, every single created thing.”³

This is not “all without distinction”—meaning some of every category. This is “all without exception”—meaning every single thing. Parry is emphatic on this point, and the structure of the poem supports him completely.⁴

The Word Paul Chose: Apokatallasso

Now here is where the details matter. The Greek word Paul uses for “reconcile” in verse 20 is apokatallasso. This is a rare word. It appears only three times in the entire New Testament—here in Colossians 1:20, again in Colossians 1:22, and once in Ephesians 2:16. And in every single usage, it means the same thing: the restoration of a broken relationship between two parties. It presupposes a rupture that has been repaired. It describes enemies becoming friends, outcasts being brought home, hostility being replaced by peace.⁵

Look at how Paul uses the very same word just two verses later. In Colossians 1:21–22, he writes: “And you who were once alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death, so as to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him.” Notice what reconciliation means here: it means people who were enemies of God have been brought into a state of holiness, blamelessness, and peace. That is salvation. Full, genuine, joyful salvation.⁶

And in Ephesians 2:14–16, the same word describes Christ destroying the wall of hostility between Jews and Gentiles and reconciling both groups to God through the cross. Again, the reconciliation is clearly salvific—it brings peace with God.⁷

So when Paul says in verse 20 that God will reconcile all things through Christ, he is using a word that in every other usage means genuine, salvific restoration of relationship. He is not describing mere subjugation. He is not describing cosmic crowd control. He is describing the healing of every broken relationship in the entire created order.

Making Peace Through the Blood of His Cross

Paul does not stop at the word “reconcile.” He amplifies it. God reconciles all things to Himself by “making peace through the blood of his cross.” This phrase is enormously important. Think about what it tells us.

First, the reconciliation is achieved through the cross. It is not achieved through raw power, through crushing force, or through threats. It is achieved through self-giving love. The cross is the ultimate expression of God’s willingness to absorb evil and suffering into Himself in order to bring His creatures home. The power at work here is not the power of a tyrant but the power of a Savior.⁸

Second, Paul says the cross brings peace. This is the language of salvation. In Romans 5:1, Paul writes, “Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Peace with God, in Paul’s vocabulary, means reconciliation, justification, restored relationship. It is inconceivable that Paul would describe someone suffering eternal punishment—or being annihilated—as being in a state of “peace with God.”⁹ Parry makes this point forcefully: the association of peace, reconciliation, and salvation is consistent across Paul’s letters. One could hardly imagine Paul believing that an enemy of God being punished forever was in a state of peace.¹⁰

Third, the scope of this peacemaking is “all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven.” There is no restriction. There is no asterisk. There is no footnote that says, “except for the ones who reject Him.” Paul’s language is relentlessly comprehensive.

Creation and New Creation: The Poem’s Grand Vision

To fully grasp the weight of this passage, we need to understand the poem’s internal logic. Paul is drawing a parallel between the original creation and the new creation. Christ is the “firstborn of all creation” (v. 15) in the first half and the “firstborn from the dead” (v. 18) in the second. Through Him all things were created (v. 16); through Him all things are reconciled (v. 20). The structure is deliberate: creation and new creation mirror each other, and Christ is supreme in both.¹¹

New Testament scholar James Dunn captures the point perfectly. He observes that what is being claimed is “quite simply and profoundly that the divine purpose in the act of reconciliation and peacemaking was to restore the harmony of the original creation, to bring into renewed oneness and wholeness ‘all things,’ ‘whether things on earth or things in the heavens.’”¹²

The new creation is not a replacement for the old creation. It is not God starting over with a smaller, more manageable group. It is the restoration of the original creation. Everything that went wrong in the fall is set right through the cross. Everything that was broken is healed. Everything that was lost is found.

And here is where the universalist reading becomes almost impossible to avoid. If the scope of new creation matches the scope of the original creation—and the poem explicitly says it does—then nothing that was created falls outside the scope of reconciliation. You can’t have a new creation that is smaller than the old one and call it a restoration. That would be like a surgeon who promises to heal your body but amputates both legs in the process. That is not healing. That is loss.

The Church as Firstfruits, Not the Whole Harvest

Now, someone might point out that in verse 18, Paul calls Christ the “head of the body, the church.” Doesn’t this suggest that reconciliation applies only to the church? Not at all. Look at what Paul does. In verses 21–22, he applies the cosmic reconciliation of verse 20 to the Colossian believers specifically: “And you who were once alienated . . . he has now reconciled.” The Colossians are not the limit of the reconciliation. They are the first taste of it. They are experiencing now what all creation will experience eventually.¹³

Parry makes this point beautifully. The church is the equivalent in the new creation of the cosmos in the original creation. Rather than narrowing Christ’s mediating role from creation to church, Paul is making claims of cosmic significance for the church. The church is the “greenhouse in and by means of which the green shoots of God’s purposes in and for creation are brought on.”¹⁴ The church is the beginning, not the end, of what God is doing. It is the firstfruits of a harvest that will eventually include all things.

Andrew Lincoln captures this idea with real elegance when he writes that the church is meant to be “a microcosm in which the divine purpose in reclaiming the entire creation is anticipated and through which, as a reconciled and reconciling community, that purpose is furthered.”¹⁵ The church does not exhaust God’s reconciling purpose. The church advances it.

Already and Not Yet

There is a helpful tension in Colossians between what scholars call “realized eschatology” and “future eschatology.” On the one hand, the decisive victory has already been won at the cross. Paul writes that God has “disarmed the powers and authorities” and “made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross” (2:15). The battle is over. The outcome is settled.¹⁶

On the other hand, the full effects of that victory have not yet been realized. Creation is still groaning. People are still alienated from God. The powers, though defeated, still resist. There is a “not yet” quality to the reconciliation that Paul acknowledges. Christ in the believers is described as “the hope of glory” (1:27)—a future reality experienced now, in hope.¹⁷

This already/not-yet framework is crucial for understanding the universalist reading. The reconciliation of all things has been accomplished in principle at the cross, but it is still being worked out in history. The church experiences it now. The rest of creation will experience it in God’s time. But the outcome is certain because the decisive event—the cross—has already occurred. The victory is won; the mopping-up operations are ongoing. And Paul gives us no reason whatsoever to believe that any part of creation will be left un-reconciled when the work is complete.

I sometimes think of it like D-Day and V-E Day in World War II. On June 6, 1944, the Allied forces stormed the beaches of Normandy. That was the decisive battle. After D-Day, the outcome of the war was certain. But the war was not over. There were still many months of fighting between D-Day and the final victory on V-E Day, May 8, 1945. In the same way, the cross is the decisive victory. The outcome of the cosmic war is settled. But the full working-out of that victory takes time. There are still battles being fought. There are still pockets of resistance. But the end is not in doubt. Every knee will bow. The question is not whether, but when.

Philippians 2:9–11: Every Knee, Every Tongue

The Setting: A Hymn of Humiliation and Exaltation

If Colossians 1 gives us the scope of Christ’s reconciling work, Philippians 2 gives us its result. This passage is another early Christian hymn—the famous “Carmen Christi,” the “Hymn of Christ.” It traces the story of Jesus from His pre-existent glory, through His humiliation and death on the cross, to His exaltation by the Father. And its climax is one of the most sweeping declarations of universal worship in all of Scripture:¹⁸

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Phil. 2:9–11)

Every knee. Every tongue. In heaven, on earth, and under the earth. There are no exceptions. The scope is total.

Now, as we will see, some interpreters have tried to argue that this universal worship is forced or reluctant—that the wicked will bow their knees grudgingly, compelled by a power they cannot resist, just before they are destroyed or cast into eternal torment. I want to show you why that reading falls apart under scrutiny. But first, we need to understand where Paul got these words.

The Isaiah 45 Background

Paul is quoting from Isaiah 45:22–23, one of the most magnificent passages in the Old Testament. Here is the full context:

Turn to me and be saved, all the ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is no other. By myself I have sworn, my mouth has uttered in all integrity a word that will not be revoked: Before me every knee will bow; by me every tongue will swear. They will say of me, “In the LORD alone are righteousness and strength.” (Isa. 45:22–25)

Notice what is happening in this passage. God addresses the survivors of the nations—people who have lived through divine judgment. He calls them to turn to Him and be saved. He swears an irrevocable oath that every knee will bow and every tongue will swear allegiance. And then those who bow go on to say, “In the LORD alone are righteousness and strength.” That is not the cry of a defeated enemy being dragged before a conqueror. That is the confession of someone who has genuinely come to trust in God.¹⁹

Parry makes this case with careful precision. He notes that the bowing and confessing in Isaiah 45 cannot be forced submission, for three reasons. First, God has just called all the nations to turn to Him and be saved—and it is in that explicitly salvific context that the oath is taken. Second, swearing oaths in Yahweh’s name is something His own people do, not His defeated enemies. Third, those who confess Yahweh go on to praise Him in language that sounds like the worship of the redeemed.²⁰

This is the passage Paul chose to quote. And he did not choose it randomly. Paul was a trained rabbi. He knew Isaiah inside and out. When a rabbi quoted a passage, he expected his audience to hear the echo of the entire surrounding context. This is what scholars call “intertextual echo”—the way a quotation brings its original setting along with it, like the scent of a garden clinging to a bouquet of flowers. Paul’s quotation of Isaiah 45:23 carries with it the full weight of that passage’s salvific meaning: God is calling the nations to turn and be saved, and He swears an irrevocable oath that they will do so.²¹

I want to stress just how remarkable this is. Paul does not quote from one of the many Old Testament passages about judgment or destruction. He does not quote from a passage about divine wrath falling on the nations. He quotes from a passage where God is calling the nations to salvation and swearing an oath that they will respond. The text Paul reaches for when he wants to describe the universal acknowledgment of Christ is a text about universal salvation. That choice is not accidental. It is theologically deliberate.

Paul’s Expansion: Beyond Isaiah

But Paul does something remarkable with Isaiah’s text. He expands its scope in a breathtaking direction. In Isaiah, the oath was addressed to “all the ends of the earth”—meaning the living survivors of the nations. Paul takes that already-universal scope and pushes it further. He writes that every knee will bow “in heaven and on earth and under the earth.”²²

That phrase “under the earth” changes everything. In ancient cosmology, “under the earth” referred to the realm of the dead. Isaiah’s oath covered the living. Paul’s expansion covers the living and the dead. As John Chrysostom noted, this three-fold formula—heaven, earth, and under the earth—refers to “the whole world, and angels, and men, and demons.”²³ Not a representative sampling. The whole created order.

Think about that for a moment. Paul takes a salvation text from Isaiah—a text about God calling the nations to be saved and swearing an oath that they will respond—and he applies it not just to the living nations but to every creature in every realm of existence. The scope of salvation in Paul’s vision is not merely global. It is cosmic.

The Nature of the Confession: Willing or Forced?

This is the crux of the debate. Defenders of both the eternal conscious torment (ECT) position and the conditional immortality (CI) position have argued that the confession in Philippians 2:11 could be forced or reluctant. On this reading, the wicked will bow before Christ, acknowledge that He is Lord, and then be sent away to their punishment or annihilation. The bowing is real, but it is not saving.

I used to find this reading plausible. I no longer do. And there are several powerful reasons why.

First, the Greek word for “confess.” The word Paul uses is exomologeo. This word has a rich history in the Greek Old Testament (the Septuagint), where it is used overwhelmingly to mean voluntary praise and thanksgiving. Throughout the Psalms, exomologeo describes the joyful, willing worship of God’s people. It is used in the very Septuagint text of Isaiah 45:23 that Paul is quoting. As the great nineteenth-century scholar J. B. Lightfoot pointed out, the secondary sense of this word—“to offer praise or thanksgiving”—had almost entirely replaced its primary meaning in the Septuagint.²⁴

Marvin Vincent, in his influential word study, observes that exomologeo in Romans 14:11 (where Paul quotes the same Isaiah passage) means “primarily to acknowledge, confess, or profess from the heart. To make a confession to one’s honor; thence to praise.”²⁵ It is extremely hard to imagine someone professing “from the heart” or confessing “to one’s honor” if the worship is coerced.

James Dunn agrees. Speaking of Paul’s use of exomologeo in Romans 14:11, Dunn writes that the word “almost certainly is intended in its usual LXX sense, ‘acknowledge, confess, praise.’”²⁶

Thomas Johnson goes further: “Every use of the word exomologeo in the New Testament connotes a voluntary confession. This includes all the cognate verbs—homologeo—and the related noun, homologia. Inherent in the nature of confession is willing and, sometimes, joyful acknowledgment. It will not do to suppose that the humble confession of Philippians 2:11 is a reluctant and forced confession from Jesus’ conquered enemies.”²⁷

Second, Pauline usage elsewhere. This is a point that deserves a paragraph of its own because it is devastating to the “forced confession” reading. Parry points out that whenever Paul speaks of confessing Jesus as Lord, it is always in a context of salvation. There are no examples in Paul of an involuntary confession of Christ’s Lordship. None. When Paul’s letters talk about declaring Jesus as Lord, they are talking about saving faith.²⁸

Consider Romans 10:9: “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Confessing Jesus as Lord is the act of saving faith. There is no Pauline precedent for a confession of Christ’s Lordship that does not result in salvation.

Here is something fascinating that highlights the confusion among traditional interpreters. The Bible Knowledge Commentary—a widely used evangelical reference work—interprets the confession in Romans 14:11 as consisting only of believers, and therefore understands it as a willing, un-coerced confession. But when commenting on the identical confession in Philippians 2:10–11, the same commentary says those who bow include both saved and unsaved, and therefore the confession includes both willing and forced worship. Stop and think about that. Paul is quoting the same verse from Isaiah 45 in both passages. How can the same quotation refer to one group of people in Romans 14 and a completely different group in Philippians 2? How can the same Greek word mean “willing praise” in one passage and “forced acknowledgment” in another? The inconsistency speaks volumes. Traditional interpreters wrestle with these texts because the most natural reading points toward something they are committed to denying.⁵³

The Clincher: 1 Corinthians 12:3

And now we arrive at what I consider one of the strongest arguments in the entire debate about universal restoration. It is so simple and so powerful that I want you to read it slowly and let it sink in.

In 1 Corinthians 12:3, Paul writes: “No one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.”

Now hold that alongside Philippians 2:11: “Every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”

Do you see it? If no one can make the confession “Jesus is Lord” except by the Holy Spirit, and if every tongue will make that confession, then every person will be moved by the Holy Spirit to confess Christ as Lord. This is not a confession wrung out of unwilling lips by overwhelming force. This is a confession empowered by the Spirit of God Himself.

Thomas Talbott presses this point with characteristic clarity. He observes that a ruling monarch might force a subject to bow against his will, and might even force the subject to utter certain words. “But praise and thanksgiving can come only from the heart, as the Apostle was no doubt clear-headed enough to discern.”²⁹ Either the confession in Philippians 2:11 is sincere, or it is not. If it is sincere, then those who confess have been reconciled to God. If it is not sincere, then it is a fraud—and God does not participate in fraud.

Talbott sharpens this further: “A Hitler may take pleasure in forcing his defeated enemies to make obeisance against their will, but a God who honors the truth could not possibly participate in such a fraud.”³⁰ That is a devastating observation. The idea that the all-holy God would stage a cosmic charade—forcing the damned to mouth words they do not mean, for His own “glory”—is morally repulsive and completely out of step with everything Scripture teaches about God’s character.

I sometimes ask people who hold the forced-confession view a simple question: “What would it look like if Paul wanted to teach that every person will eventually be genuinely saved?” What language would he use? He would probably say something like “God reconciles all things to Himself.” He would probably say something like “every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord.” He would probably quote a salvation text from Isaiah and apply it universally. He would probably write that no one can make this confession except by the Holy Spirit. In other words, he would write exactly what he wrote. At some point, we have to let the text say what it says.

Does God Accept Forced Worship?

This is a question that should make us pause. Think about what Scripture says about insincere worship. God says through Isaiah: “Bring your worthless offerings no longer; incense is an abomination to Me. New moon and sabbath, the calling of assemblies—I cannot endure iniquity and the solemn assembly” (Isa. 1:13). God rejects the worship of His own people when it comes with impure hearts. If God will not accept half-hearted worship from His own beloved Israel, why on earth would He accept the coerced worship of those who hate Him?³¹

The traditional reading asks us to believe something very strange: that God grants people complete freedom to reject Him during their earthly lives—even to the point of their own eternal destruction—but then forces His will upon them after they are dead, when it is too late for the confession to do them any good. As the author of Patristic Universalism asks pointedly: wouldn’t it have been more compassionate for God to override their will before death, when it could actually save them, rather than after death, when it is merely humiliation?³²

The forced-confession reading makes God look worse, not better. It turns the climax of the Christ Hymn—which is supposed to be a celebration of Christ’s supreme glory—into a scene of divine coercion. It takes one of the most beautiful passages in the New Testament and makes it ugly. And it does so without any linguistic, contextual, or theological necessity.

Romans 14:11—The Same Text, the Same Meaning

Before we move on, we should note that Paul quotes the same Isaiah 45 text one more time, in Romans 14:11: “As surely as I live, says the Lord, every knee will bow before me; every tongue will confess to God.” The context here is instructive. Paul is addressing a disagreement in the Roman church about food laws and holy days. He wants the Roman believers to stop judging each other. And his argument is that everyone—everyone—is accountable to God, and everyone will confess to God.³³

As Parry observes, the Isaiah 45 text serves two functions in Romans 14. First, it stresses that believers are accountable to God and should not judge each other. Second, it is a text about the conversion of the Gentiles, in which all the Gentiles bow and praise God alongside Israel. There is no hint of condemnation in the context. Paul uses a salvation text to reinforce his point about mutual acceptance in the body of Christ.³⁴

The fact that Paul quotes Isaiah 45 three separate times—in Philippians 2, Romans 14, and by implication in Colossians 1—tells us how central this theme was to his theology. The universal worship of God was not a peripheral idea for Paul. It was at the heart of his understanding of what God is doing through Christ.

And notice the remarkable progression. In Romans 14:11, Paul uses the Isaiah 45 text in a pastoral context about mutual acceptance among believers. In Philippians 2:10–11, he uses it in a Christological hymn to celebrate the exaltation of Christ. And in Colossians 1:20, he connects the same theme to the cosmic reconciliation of all things through the blood of the cross. The theme grows and expands across Paul’s letters—from pastoral instruction, to worship, to cosmic eschatology. And at every level, the message is the same: God’s purpose in Christ is the reconciliation of all.

The author of The Triumph of Mercy draws an important connection here. He argues that the fulfillment of Isaiah 45 is not a single moment but an unfolding process. Believers come into full agreement with God when they stand before Him at the judgment seat of Christ. Others will come into agreement at the great white throne judgment. Still others may continue in defiance for ages. But God has sworn that eventually every knee will bow and every tongue will confess Jesus as Lord.⁵⁷ The emphasis there is on “eventually.” God is patient. His love is relentless. And His oath is irrevocable.

The Incoherence of “Reconciliation Through Subjugation”

We have looked at the texts closely. Now I want to step back and address a broader theological problem with the non-universalist readings. Talbott exposes this problem with remarkable precision, and I think his argument is decisive.

Peter T. O’Brien, a respected conservative New Testament scholar, once argued that the reconciliation of the principalities and powers in Colossians 1:20 should be understood as “reconciliation through subjugation”—these hostile powers are forced to submit to a power they cannot resist, not genuinely reconciled in the full redemptive sense.³⁵

Talbott responds that this idea is literally incoherent. Here is why. When we talk about subjecting a will to Christ, mere external compliance is not enough. If a spiritual being is forced to submit outwardly while remaining inwardly rebellious, then that being’s will has not actually been subjected. The mind and spirit remain unconquered. As Talbott puts it, recalling Milton’s Satan: “the unconquerable Will, and study of revenge, immortal hate” remain intact.³⁶

There is only one way to truly bring a rebellious will into subjection: you must transform that will so that it voluntarily places itself under Christ’s authority. As long as a single will remains in rebellion, at least one power in the universe is not yet in subjection to Christ. True subjection requires willing consent.³⁷

And here is the exegetical kicker. In 1 Corinthians 15:28, Paul says that when all things have been subjected to Christ, then the Son Himself will be subjected to the Father, “so that God may be all in all.” Paul draws a parallel between the subjection of all things to Christ and Christ’s own subjection to the Father. Now, is Christ’s subjection to the Father forced? Is it reluctant? Of course not! It is the joyful, willing, loving submission of the Son to His Father. And Paul draws the parallel precisely because the subjection of all things to Christ will be of the same kind: willing, joyful, and genuine.³⁸

“Reconciliation through subjugation” is not just a bad interpretation. It is a contradiction in terms.

Let me put this another way that might help it land. If I tell you that I have “reconciled” with my estranged brother, what do you picture? You picture two people sitting down, talking through their differences, forgiving each other, and restoring their relationship. You do not picture me pinning my brother to the floor and sitting on his chest until he says “uncle.” The word reconcile carries its meaning into the sentence. You cannot strip it of its relational content and fill it with something else. And when Paul says God will reconcile all things to Himself, he means what the word means: genuine relational restoration. Peace. Friendship. The end of hostility—not through force, but through love.

The Principalities and Powers

Let me say a word about the “principalities and powers” that appear in both Colossians 1 and Philippians 2. Some interpreters try to restrict the reconciliation in Colossians 1:20 to cosmic structures or impersonal forces rather than personal beings. But this does not hold up.

In Colossians 1:16, Paul lists “thrones, dominions, rulers, and authorities” among the things created through Christ. These same powers appear in 2:15, where Christ “disarmed” them at the cross. They are treated as hostile, personal agents who resist God’s purposes. And yet they are included in the “all things” that will be reconciled in 1:20.³⁹

Parry makes a crucial observation. Some commentators have argued that the defeat of the powers at the cross (2:15) shows that reconciliation means punishment, not salvation. But this reasoning fails. The powers had to be defeated in their hostility before they could be reconciled. Their defeat at the cross opens the way for their reconciliation, just as a surgeon must cut before he can heal. After all, Parry notes, it is hardly plausible to interpret the reconciliation of the principalities and powers in 1:20 as referring to their eschatological punishment. That verse clearly refers to their deliverance.⁴⁰

And Hendrikus Berkhof adds a further point. If the powers were created good, as Colossians 1:16 indicates, then for Christ to annihilate them would mark a defeat for God, not a victory. Something originally good would have been permanently lost. But if Christ renders the powers harmless through their transformation and reconciliation, then the victory is complete—not a single created thing has been destroyed.⁴¹

This argument applies to human beings as well. Every person was created in the image of God. Every person was made “through him and for him” (Col. 1:16). If any person is permanently lost—whether through annihilation or endless torment—then something that God created has been permanently defeated. The fall has won a partial victory. Sin has claimed some of God’s territory. And God is not truly “all in all.”

I want to linger on this for a moment because I think it is one of the most underappreciated arguments in the entire debate. If God made you “through Christ and for Christ,” then you were designed from the beginning to be in a right relationship with Christ. Your very existence is oriented toward Him. If you are permanently destroyed, then something that was created for Christ has been lost forever. Christ Himself has lost something that was made for Him. And if we take Colossians 1:16 seriously—that every created thing was made through Christ and for Christ—then the loss of even one creature would represent a permanent gap in the purpose for which Christ created.

David Bentley Hart develops this logic from the angle of creation itself. He argues that the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo—creation from nothing—is not merely a cosmological claim but an eschatological and moral one. If God freely created all things out of nothing, then the purpose of creation must be fulfilled. A creation where some beings are permanently lost is a creation whose purpose has been, to that extent, defeated. And a God whose purposes can be defeated is not the God of Scripture.⁵⁵

The Connection to Ephesians 1:9–10

Before we turn to objections, I want to briefly note the connection between these texts and Ephesians 1:9–10, which tells us that God’s purpose is “to unite all things in Christ, things in heaven and things on earth.” (We will explore Ephesians 1 in full detail in Chapter 21, so I will not duplicate that work here.) The parallels with Colossians 1:20 are striking and have been observed by many scholars. Both passages speak of “all things” being brought together in Christ. Both use the phrase “things in heaven and things on earth.” Both presuppose that creation has been fractured by sin and that God’s purpose is to restore its original harmony.⁴²

The point for our purposes is simply this: the universal reconciliation described in Colossians 1:20 is not an isolated text. It is part of a consistent Pauline vision in which God’s plan is to gather all things together in Christ. Paul says this in Colossians, in Philippians, in Ephesians, in Romans, and in 1 Corinthians. This is not a marginal theme. It is the backbone of Paul’s theology.

Addressing Common Objections

“Colossians 1:20 Refers to Cosmic Order, Not Individual Salvation”

Someone might respond by saying that the reconciliation Paul describes in Colossians 1:20 is about restoring divine order to the universe, not about saving individuals. On this reading, God “reconciles” the wicked by putting them in their proper place through punishment, while saving the righteous through grace. The cosmic order is restored, but not everyone participates in salvation.

This reading simply will not work. As we have already seen, Paul’s word apokatallasso means the restoration of a broken relationship. It presupposes hostility that has been overcome through the cross. And Paul expands on this reconciliation by speaking of “making peace through the blood of his cross.” Peace with God, in Paul’s vocabulary, is always salvific. You cannot be at war with God and at peace with God at the same time. And you certainly cannot be in a state of “peace with God” while suffering eternal punishment.⁴³

Furthermore, Paul immediately illustrates what he means by reconciliation by applying it to the Colossian believers: “And you who were once alienated and hostile in mind . . . he has now reconciled . . . to present you holy and blameless” (1:21–22). This is genuine salvation. And Paul says the same reconciliation will extend to “all things.” If the reconciliation of “all things” meant something different from the reconciliation of the believers, Paul’s logic would collapse. He uses the same word because he means the same thing.⁴⁴

“The ‘Should’ in Philippians 2:10 Means It Might Not Happen”

Someone might respond by saying that the word “should” in Philippians 2:10—“that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow”—indicates that this is a statement of what ought to happen, not what will happen. Perhaps every knee should bow but some will refuse.

This argument collapses on the Greek. The verb in Philippians 2:10 is in the aorist subjunctive, and it should not be understood as “you ought to bow but might not.” It carries the force of “you shall bow.” And in any case, neither Isaiah 45 nor Romans 14 includes any sense of “they should bow but will not.” Both passages say plainly that every knee will bow.⁴⁵

The “should” in most English translations is simply a function of how we translate the Greek subjunctive after a purpose clause. It does not introduce doubt about whether the action will occur. Paul’s point is not that it would be nice if every knee bowed. His point is that God has exalted Christ to the highest place precisely so that every knee will bow.

“Colossians 1:23 Introduces a Condition That Limits the Reconciliation”

Someone might respond by saying that Colossians 1:23 introduces a crucial qualifier: “if you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope held out in the gospel.” Doesn’t this “if” clause show that reconciliation is conditional and might not apply to everyone?

Several things need to be said. First, the condition in verse 23 is addressed to the Colossian believers about their present experience of reconciliation. It is a pastoral exhortation to faithfulness, not a statement that limits the cosmic scope of God’s purpose in verse 20. Second, as Sven Hillert argues, there is no reason to read the ei-clause (“if”-clause) as expressing doubt about whether the Colossians will persevere. Rather, Paul is reminding them of the foundation of their faith and hope, which they share with all creation.⁴⁶

And third, Andrew Lincoln makes the important point that the conditional construction “need not express doubt that they will do so. But it does make clear that cosmic reconciliation is not some automatic process; it works itself out in history in relation to the response of faith.”⁴⁷ The universalist happily agrees. Reconciliation is not automatic. It works itself out through the gospel, through encounter with Christ, through the work of the Holy Spirit. But it will, in the end, reach every single creature. The process is genuine. The outcome is certain.

“All Without Distinction, Not All Without Exception”

Someone might respond by saying that “all things” in Colossians 1:20 means “all kinds of things”—that is, representatives from every category (earthly, heavenly, human, angelic) will be reconciled, but not every individual.

This is perhaps the weakest objection of all. The structure of the poem makes this interpretation impossible. In verse 16, “all things” clearly means every single created entity. No one argues that God only created some things in heaven and on earth, or some thrones and dominions. The “all things” of creation is comprehensive. And the “all things” of reconciliation in verse 20 is deliberately parallel. As Parry insists, this is not “all without distinction” but “all without exception.”⁴⁸

If you restrict the “all things” of verse 20 while keeping the “all things” of verse 16 universal, you destroy the poem’s structure and undermine its central claim: that the scope of redemption matches the scope of creation.

“Paul Could Not Have Meant That Everyone Will Be Saved Because He Warns About Judgment Elsewhere”

Someone might respond by saying that Paul’s warnings about judgment and destruction elsewhere in his letters prove he could not have meant universal reconciliation in Colossians 1 and Philippians 2.

But the universalist does not deny judgment. We affirm it. The question is not whether God judges, but what the purpose and outcome of that judgment is. As we have explored in earlier chapters of this book, the universalist understands divine judgment as corrective, purifying, and ultimately restorative—not terminal. God’s fire refines; it does not merely consume (see Chapter 4 for a full treatment of this theme). The warnings about judgment are real and serious. They describe real consequences for sin. But those consequences serve a purpose: to bring the person to repentance and restoration.⁴⁹

And it is precisely because judgment is restorative that Paul can affirm both the reality of judgment and the reality of universal reconciliation without any contradiction. The same God who judges is the God who reconciles. The fire that punishes is the fire that purifies. And the end result is that every created thing is brought home.

“Did Paul Really Intend to Quote Isaiah in Its Full Salvific Context?”

Someone might respond by saying that we cannot assume Paul intended to carry over the full salvific context of Isaiah 45 when he quoted it in Philippians 2. Perhaps he was only borrowing the language of universal submission without its salvific overtones.

This argument underestimates Paul. He was not a casual quoter of Scripture. He was a trained Pharisee who had memorized large portions of the Hebrew Bible. When Paul quoted Isaiah, he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew the context. He expected his readers to know it too.⁵⁰

Moreover, Paul does not strip away the salvific context of Isaiah 45. He amplifies it. He takes a passage about the living nations bowing before God and expands it to include the dead. He takes a passage about earthly peoples and extends it to heavenly and subterranean beings. If Paul wanted to strip Isaiah 45 of its salvific meaning, he went about it in the most counterproductive way imaginable—by making the passage even more universal.

And as we have already seen, Paul’s own theological vocabulary confirms the salvific reading. The word exomologeo means willing praise. The confession “Jesus is Lord” is a saving confession. And no one can make it except by the Holy Spirit. Everything in Paul’s vocabulary points the same direction: the confession in Philippians 2:11 is genuine, voluntary, Spirit-empowered, and saving.

The Power of the Cross

There is one more angle I want to explore before we close this chapter, and it may be the most important of all. What kind of power does the cross represent?

When Paul says that God reconciles all things “through the blood of his cross” (Col. 1:20) and exalts Jesus because of His obedience “to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8), he is making a profound claim about the nature of God’s power. The cross is not the power of a conqueror. It is the power of self-giving love. The cross is God absorbing the worst that sin and death can do and transforming it into the means of salvation.⁵¹

Talbott asks the right question: “What was the power of the cross, according to Paul? Was it the power of a conqueror to compel his enemies to obey him against their will?”⁵² Obviously not. The power of the cross is the power of love poured out. It is the power of a God who would rather die than give up on His creatures. It is the power that transforms enemies into friends, not by overpowering their resistance but by overwhelming their hearts.

Think about how a human analogy might work. Imagine a father whose son has run away from home and joined a gang. The father could send armed men to drag the son back by force. That would be subjugation. Or the father could go himself, walk into the dangerous neighborhood, risk his own life, and demonstrate such relentless, sacrificial love that the son’s heart is eventually melted and he comes home willingly. That is reconciliation. And that is what the cross accomplishes. God did not stay in heaven and send thunderbolts. He came down. He entered our mess. He absorbed our violence and hatred into Himself. And through that act of incomprehensible love, He opened the door for every hostile heart to be transformed.

The author of The Triumph of Mercy makes a related point that I find deeply moving. He observes that all creation originated in God, and although we fell, God has reconciled us to Himself through Jesus Christ and given the church the ministry of reconciliation for the rest of creation. “There are no throw-aways in all of God’s creation,” he writes. We are not worthless objects to be discarded, but creatures of infinite worth in God’s eyes. That is why He will ultimately restore all to Himself.⁵⁴

And if this is the power that reconciles all things, then we should expect the reconciliation to be genuine. Love does not produce forced submission. Love produces willing surrender. A God who conquers through the cross conquers through love—and love’s victory is always free.

Conclusion: The Vision of Paul

So where does this leave us? Let me summarize what we have seen in this chapter.

In Colossians 1:15–20, Paul presents a vision of cosmic reconciliation in which everything that was created through Christ will be reconciled through Christ. The scope of redemption matches the scope of creation. The word Paul uses—apokatallasso—means genuine relational restoration. The reconciliation is achieved through the cross and results in peace with God. There are no exceptions, no qualifications, and no restrictions in Paul’s language.

In Philippians 2:9–11, Paul declares that every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. He is quoting Isaiah 45:22–23, a passage that is explicitly salvific in its original context. The Greek word for “confess” means voluntary praise. Paul himself says that no one can confess Jesus as Lord except by the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 12:3). The confession is universal, genuine, Spirit-empowered, and saving.

Together, these two passages present one of the clearest and most comprehensive statements of universal reconciliation in all of Scripture. The God who created all things through Christ is the God who will reconcile all things through Christ. The Jesus who humbled Himself to death on a cross is the Jesus before whom every creature in heaven, on earth, and under the earth will joyfully confess as Lord. This is not forced submission. It is not cosmic crowd control. It is the triumph of love.

I think Paul would be astonished to learn that Christians have read these passages for two thousand years and concluded that God’s plan is to save some and condemn the rest. That is not what Paul says. What Paul says is that God was pleased to reconcile all things to Himself through Christ. What Paul says is that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. What Paul says is that the purpose of the cross is not to defeat God’s enemies but to transform them into friends.

Let me put it as simply as I can. When we combine Colossians 1:20 with Philippians 2:10–11 and 1 Corinthians 12:3, here is what we get: God will reconcile all things through Christ. Every knee will bow. Every tongue will confess Jesus as Lord. And that confession can only be made by the power of the Holy Spirit. This is not a syllogism I invented. These are Paul’s own words, connected by his own logic. The conclusion is that every created being will be genuinely, willingly, joyfully reconciled to God through Christ. Not some. Not most. All.

The early Greek-speaking church fathers—the ones who read Paul in his own language and breathed the same theological air—saw this clearly. As we will explore in Chapters 25 and 26, the greatest minds of the early Greek church, including Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and many others, read these very passages and concluded that Paul was teaching universal restoration. They were not reading against the grain of the text. They were reading with it.⁵⁶

And if Paul is right—and I believe with all my heart that he is—then there is a better hope than we ever dared to imagine. A hope not just for some, but for all. A hope that the God who made everything will restore everything. A hope that the gates of the New Jerusalem stand open forever, and that the last straggler will come home.

In the next chapter, we will turn to Paul’s clearest statements about God’s universal saving will in 1 Timothy, Titus, and 2 Peter. But for now, let these two passages settle into your heart. Let the words reconcile all things and every knee will bow do their work. Because Paul meant them. All of them.