Chapter 16
Additional Scriptural Evidence — Gospels, Hebrews, Revelation, and Beyond

In the previous several chapters, we have surveyed some of the most powerful biblical evidence for the possibility of postmortem salvation. We looked at the descent of Christ to the dead in 1 Peter 3:18–4:6 (Chapters 11–12), the additional descent passages in Ephesians 4:8–10 and the Apostles' Creed (Chapter 13), the great universal reconciliation texts in Colossians 1:15–20, Philippians 2:9–11, Ephesians 1:9–10, and 1 Corinthians 15:22–28 (Chapter 14), and Paul's powerful witness in Romans 5:12–21, Romans 14:9, and 1 Corinthians 15:29 (Chapter 15). But the biblical evidence does not stop there. Not by a long shot.

In this chapter, we turn our attention to a wide range of additional scriptural passages—from the Gospels, from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, from the Gospel of John, from the book of Revelation, and from the Old Testament—that further support the possibility of postmortem salvific opportunity. These are not minor or obscure proof-texts dragged unwillingly into service. They are rich, substantive passages that, when examined carefully, point to a God whose saving work is not limited by the boundary of physical death.

Our thesis is straightforward: Beyond the descent passages, the universal reconciliation texts, and the Pauline theology we have already examined, there is a broad range of additional scriptural evidence—from the Gospels, Hebrews, Revelation, and other sources—that supports the possibility of postmortem salvific opportunity.

Let us take these passages one at a time, giving each the careful attention it deserves.

I. Matthew 12:32 — Forgiveness "in the Age to Come"

"Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come." (Matthew 12:32, NIV)

This is one of the most provocative statements Jesus ever made—and one of the most overlooked by those who insist that no salvific activity can take place after death. To understand its significance, we need to set it in context.

In Matthew 12:22, Jesus had just healed a demon-possessed man who was both blind and mute. The crowd was amazed, but the Pharisees—unable to deny the miracle itself—questioned its source. They accused Jesus of casting out demons by the power of Beelzebub, the prince of demons (v. 24). Jesus exposed the absurdity of this claim (vv. 25–29) and then delivered a solemn warning: blasphemy against the Holy Spirit—that is, looking at the unmistakable work of God's Spirit and deliberately attributing it to Satan—would not be forgiven.

But notice how Jesus phrased His warning. He did not simply say, "This sin will never be forgiven." He said it will not be forgiven "either in this age or in the age to come." Now, here is the question that leaps off the page: Why would Jesus mention "the age to come" at all if no forgiveness were possible in the age to come?

To appreciate the force of this argument, consider an analogy. Suppose I said to you, "This store does not accept checks or credit cards." What would you naturally infer? You would infer that the store does accept some other form of payment—cash, perhaps, or a debit card. The very act of specifying what is not accepted implies that something else is accepted. In the same way, when Jesus specifies that the blasphemy against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven in either this age or the age to come, He implies that there are sins for which forgiveness in the age to come is available.

The Greek phrase here is important. The words en toutō tō aiōni oute en tō mellonti (ἐν τούτῳ τῷ αἰῶνι οὔτε ἐν τῷ μέλλοντι) literally mean "in this age nor in the one coming." The word aiōn (αἰών) refers to an age or era—a period of time. As we discuss in detail in Chapter 20, this word does not necessarily mean "eternity" in the way English speakers often assume. In first-century Jewish thought, history was commonly divided into two great eras: "this age" (ha-olam ha-zeh in Hebrew) and "the age to come" (ha-olam ha-ba). As R.T. France explains, "this age" and "the age to come" are Jewish terms that apply primarily to the contrast between this present era and the eschatological era that follows it.¹ G. E. Ladd similarly explains that this Jewish idiom views redemptive history as two distinct and contrasting periods of time—this present age of sin and death, and the future age of righteousness and life, introduced by the parousia of Christ.²

So when Jesus says that blasphemy against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven "in this age or in the age to come," He is using standard Jewish eschatological language to say that this particular sin has no forgiveness available in either period of redemptive history. But—and this is the crucial point—by specifying this one sin as uniquely unforgiven across both ages, He presupposes that other sins can find forgiveness in the age to come.

As the early universalist writer Thomas Allin argued, these words imply that there is forgiveness for sin after this life in very many cases—and therefore repentance after death is quite possible.³ For traditional commentators to claim that nothing in the Bible provides hope for a postmortem chance is simply incorrect. Christ Himself speaks of forgiveness in another age.

Now, I want to be fair to the other side. Some scholars have tried to blunt the force of this passage. Jonathan notes that one common response is to point out that "Matt. 12:32 does not say that any sins will be forgiven after death, only that some will not be."⁴ Technically, this is true—Jesus does not explicitly state that sins will be forgiven in the age to come. But as E. H. Plumptre rightly asked, why would Jesus emphasize this point in the way He did if there were no possibility of postmortem forgiveness at all?⁵ The most natural reading of the text, the reading that makes the most sense of Jesus' unusual phrasing, is that some sins can be forgiven in the age to come—just not this one.

It is also noteworthy that many major commentaries simply avoid the question altogether. Hendriksen, for example, writes more than a thousand words on verses 31–32 but virtually ignores the phrase "either in this age or in the age to come," offering only a brief denunciation of the concept of purgatory.⁶ This silence is itself telling. If the implication of postmortem forgiveness could be easily dismissed, one would expect commentators to dismiss it. Instead, many simply look the other way.

Some scholars have also suggested that "this age" refers to the pre-Christian age (before the cross) and "the age to come" refers to the Christian era (after the cross). On this reading, Jesus would be saying that blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven either before or after Pentecost, leaving open the possibility that some might be forgiven in the eschaton—the age after the age to come. As Beilby notes, this interpretation would allow for the possibility that some who blaspheme the Holy Spirit might be forgiven in the eschaton, the age after the age to come.⁷ Whether or not we adopt this particular reading, it illustrates that the text has generated a long history of scholarly discussion about forgiveness beyond this present life.

What about the universalist objection? If no sin goes permanently unforgiven except blasphemy against the Spirit, and if the sins listed in passages like Matthew 25:34–44 (failing to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick) do not constitute blasphemy against the Spirit, then it follows that the people in Matthew 25 could potentially be forgiven in the age to come.⁸ This does not by itself prove postmortem salvation, but it certainly leaves the door open—a door that many have claimed Scripture permanently shuts.

I believe the most natural and honest reading of Matthew 12:32 is this: Jesus is telling us that there exists a particular sin so grave, so willful, so final in its nature—deliberately calling the work of God's Spirit the work of the devil—that it cannot be forgiven in any age. The reason this statement is meaningful is precisely because other sins can be forgiven in the age to come. This is not an airtight proof of postmortem salvation, but it is a powerful piece of evidence that should give pause to anyone who insists the Bible leaves no room for hope beyond the grave.

II. Matthew 5:25–26 / Luke 12:58–59 — "Until You Have Paid the Last Penny"

"Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. Do it while you are still together on the way, or your adversary may hand you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you over to the officer, and you may be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny." (Matthew 5:25–26, NIV)

"As you are going with your adversary to the magistrate, try hard to be reconciled on the way, or your adversary may drag you off to the judge, and the judge turn you over to the officer, and the officer throw you into prison. I tell you, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny." (Luke 12:58–59, NIV)

At first glance, these parallel passages seem like simple advice about settling legal disputes. And on one level, that is exactly what they are. But Jesus' parables and metaphors regularly operate on multiple levels, and the early church widely understood this particular teaching to carry deeper, eschatological implications.

The key phrase is the temporal word "until" (Greek: heōs, ἕως). This is a word that implies a terminal point—a point at which the stated condition ends. Jesus says, "You will not get out until you have paid the last penny." The logic is unmistakable: there is a getting out. The imprisonment is not permanent. It has a definite endpoint, namely, when the debt has been paid.

Now, consider the contrast between what Jesus actually says and what He could have said. If He had intended to describe a punishment without end, He could simply have said, "You will never get out." But He did not say that. He said, "You will not get out until." As one commentator from the universalist tradition has observed, there is a great difference between "you will by no means ever get out of there" and "you will by no means get out of there until."⁹ The word "until" presupposes that the imprisonment has a terminus—a point at which it ends and release becomes possible.

The context in Matthew 5 is striking. Just three verses earlier (v. 22), Jesus had mentioned Gehenna—the fire of judgment. So the broader passage is already dealing with themes of divine judgment and punishment. The metaphor of prison, then, likely points beyond a mere earthly legal dispute to the larger reality of God's judgment. And in that judgment, Jesus says, the penalty is finite. It lasts "until" the debt is paid.

The philosopher John Hick, reflecting on this passage, made a memorable observation: since only a finite number of pennies can have a last one, we seem to be in the realm of graded debts and payments, rather than absolute guilt and infinite penalty.¹⁰ This is a telling point. If the punishment is truly eternal—infinite in duration—then the metaphor of paying a debt down to the "last penny" makes no sense. Debts have amounts. Amounts can be paid. And when the last penny is paid, the debtor goes free.

As R. Zachary Manis notes, some universalists take the moral of Matthew 5:25–26 and Luke 12:58–59 to be an expression of hell's purpose and duration—a place where sinners pay their debt of justice until the sentence is complete.¹¹ Whether or not one accepts a full universalist reading, the passage clearly envisions a punishment that has a purpose (paying a debt) and an end (when the last penny is paid). This is difficult to square with the traditional doctrine of eternal conscious torment but fits naturally within a framework that allows for postmortem opportunity and eventual release.

We should also note the parallel in Matthew 18:34–35, where Jesus tells the parable of the unforgiving servant. The master delivers the servant "to the torturers until he should pay all that was due to him." Then Jesus delivers the punchline: "So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses." Here Jesus explicitly applies the "until" framework to God's own dealings with people. If God Himself punishes "until" the debt is paid, then God's punishment has an endpoint. This is paternal correction, not infinite retribution. As one writer perceptively observed, the fact that Jesus refers to God in this passage as "Father" emphasizes the paternal nature of the correction—a father disciplining his child, not a tyrant destroying his enemy.¹²

Think about it this way. Jesus tells us that we must forgive others not seven times, but seventy times seven—that is, without limit (Matthew 18:21–22). Would God then refuse to forgive at all after the moment of death while our soul lives on? Would He set a hard deadline on mercy that He would never impose on us? As I said, this does not prove postmortem salvation by itself. But it does raise a deeply uncomfortable question for those who insist that God's forgiveness is available only during the few decades of earthly life and then permanently withdrawn forever. The "until" language of Jesus consistently points toward a punishment that is real, painful, and purposeful—but not endless.

III. 1 Corinthians 3:11–15 — Saved "Yet So as Through Fire"

"For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person's work. If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames." (1 Corinthians 3:11–15, NIV)

This passage is one of the most remarkable statements in the entire New Testament about the relationship between fire, judgment, and salvation. Paul describes a scene in which every person's work is tested by fire on "the Day"—the Day of the Lord, the day of final judgment. The fire does not test people; it tests work. What is built of gold, silver, and precious stones survives the fire. What is built of wood, hay, and straw is consumed. And then comes the astonishing conclusion: even the person whose work is entirely burned up—the person who has nothing to show for their life's effort—"will be saved, yet so as through fire."

Let us unpack this carefully, because this passage has enormous implications for our study.

First, notice the universal scope of the testing. Paul says that "each person's work" will be tested. He does not say "some people's work." The fire examines everyone. As Sharon Baker argues in her treatment of this passage, in the final judgment everyone will go through the fire—through the fire that surrounds God, comes from God, and is God.¹³ This connects powerfully to the biblical teaching that "our God is a consuming fire" (Hebrews 12:29; Deuteronomy 4:24). Standing in God's presence, in the fullness of His holiness, is standing in the fire. The question is not whether we will encounter the fire, but how we will experience it.

Second, notice that the fire in this passage has a purifying function, not merely a destructive one. The metaphor Paul uses is that of a building inspector testing construction materials. Gold, silver, and precious stones pass through fire without being destroyed—indeed, fire purifies gold and silver, removing impurities and leaving something more beautiful than before. Wood, hay, and straw, by contrast, are consumed. The fire does not indiscriminately destroy everything. It separates what is valuable from what is worthless. It burns away the dross and leaves the gold.

Third—and this is the point that should stop us in our tracks—the person whose work is entirely burned up is still saved. "He himself will be saved, yet so as through fire." This is extraordinary. Paul envisions someone who has built nothing of lasting value, whose entire life's work amounts to wood, hay, and straw. And yet—after passing through the purifying fire that strips away everything worthless—this person is saved. They "suffer loss," certainly. They do not receive the reward that those with gold, silver, and precious stones receive. But they are not destroyed. They are not condemned eternally. They come through the fire, purified and chastened, and they are saved.

R. Zachary Manis recognizes the profound implications of this passage for the question of postmortem purification. He suggests that some individuals may construe their suffering in the presence of God as an act of faith, and consequently the experience is one that promotes their sanctification. He writes that "perhaps these are the individuals of whom Scripture speaks as being 'saved, but only as through fire.'"¹⁵ Manis goes on to note that the divine presence model of judgment (which we examine in detail in Chapter 23A) is flexible enough to accommodate this passage: it can be developed as an account of purgatory as well as an account of heaven and hell, holding that divine disclosure produces in sinners a kind of suffering that can possibly lead to repentance and sanctification—if only they will receive it as such.¹⁶

Now, I should note that many scholars understand 1 Corinthians 3:11–15 as referring primarily to believers—specifically, to Christian leaders whose ministry work will be evaluated. The "foundation" is explicitly identified as Jesus Christ (v. 11), and so the passage seems to address people who have already accepted Christ but whose works vary in quality. This is a legitimate point, and I do not want to overstate the passage's direct application to the unsaved.

However, even if the primary referent is believers, the principle Paul establishes here is deeply significant for our study. The principle is this: God's fire purifies. It does not merely destroy—it separates the good from the bad, burns away what is worthless, and preserves what is valuable. And a person can pass through that fire and come out saved on the other side. If this is how God deals with believers whose works are subpar, might He not also deal graciously—through the same purifying fire—with those who never had the opportunity to build on the foundation of Christ during their earthly lives? As we argued in Chapter 23B, if the Lake of Fire is God's purifying presence (a thesis supported by extensive biblical evidence), then the principle of 1 Corinthians 3:15 may extend further than its immediate context—to the very fires of final judgment itself.

The universalist tradition has long seen this passage as supporting the idea that divine fire has a redemptive purpose. As one writer in that tradition observes, the traditional view is so fixed on the idea that believers will never experience any type of punishment after death that passages such as 1 Corinthians 3:12–15 get dismissed as either not applying to believers or simply an allegorical reference to some minor judgment.¹⁷ But the text says what it says: the fire tests each person's work, it burns away the worthless, and the person is saved—"yet so as through fire." This is a picture not of eternal damnation but of painful, purposeful, saving purification.

We should also observe the connection between this passage and several others that warn believers they will be held to a higher standard. John 9:41, James 4:17, 1 Peter 4:17, and 2 Peter 2:21 all indicate that those with greater knowledge bear greater responsibility. If even believers face a purifying judgment by fire, how much more might the unevangelized—those who never had a chance to build on the foundation of Christ—need the merciful purification of God's fiery presence? The cross-reference to our discussion of Baker's "Otto" narrative in Chapter 23B is apt here: Otto, a wicked person, encounters God's fire and experiences the burning away of everything evil within him—and what emerges on the other side is not destruction but redemption.

IV. John 5:25–29 — The Dead Will Hear the Voice of the Son of God

"Very truly I tell you, a time is coming and has now come when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself. And he has given him authority to judge because he is the Son of Man. Do not be amazed at this, for a time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his voice and come out—those who have done what is good will rise to be rewarded with life, and those who have done what is evil will rise to be condemned." (John 5:25–29, NIV)

This passage from John's Gospel is one of the richest and most theologically dense statements Jesus ever made about death, life, judgment, and the power of His voice. For our purposes, it is significant in at least three ways.

First, Jesus declares that "the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live" (v. 25). The word translated "hear" here is akouō (ἀκούω), which in Greek can mean not only to physically perceive sound but also to listen with understanding, to heed, to respond. So when Jesus says the dead will "hear" His voice, He is saying more than that sound waves will reach their ears. He is saying they will encounter Him. They will be addressed by Him personally. And the result? "Those who hear will live." The hearing leads to living. The encounter with the Son of God produces life.

Now, the majority of commentators understand the "dead" in verse 25 as referring to the spiritually dead—those who are currently alive in body but dead in sin. The phrase "and has now come" supports this reading, since spiritual resurrection through faith in Christ was already happening during Jesus' ministry. This is a valid interpretation, and I do not dismiss it.

But the passage does not stop there. In verses 28–29, Jesus shifts from the present reality to a future eschatological event: "a time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his voice and come out." Here the reference is unmistakably to the physically dead. Those who are literally "in their graves" will hear the voice of the Son of God and will come forth. The "hour is coming" language points forward to eschatological events—the final resurrection and judgment.

Second, notice the connection to 1 Peter 4:6, which states that "the gospel was preached even to those who are now dead, so that they might be judged according to human standards in regard to the body, but live according to God in regard to the spirit." As we argued at length in Chapter 11, this passage describes Christ's proclamation of the gospel to the dead in Hades. John 5:25 may well be describing the same reality from a different angle. From John's temporal perspective, Jesus had already descended into Hades and preached to the dead (as Peter records). So when Jesus says "the hour is coming and has now come when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God," He may be referring to this very event—His own proclamation to the dead during His descent.¹⁹

Beilby notes this connection and observes that it is very possible John is referring to the same reality referred to by Peter—Christ's preaching to the dead in Hades.²⁰ If so, John 5:25 provides corroborating evidence from the Fourth Gospel for the descent tradition we examined in Chapters 11–13.

Third, notice the criteria by which the risen dead are evaluated. Those who "have done what is good" rise to life; those who "have done what is evil" rise to be condemned (v. 29). This is strikingly similar to the judgment scene in Matthew 25:31–46, where the sheep and goats are separated on the basis of their treatment of the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, and the imprisoned. In both passages, the judgment is based on deeds—on how people lived and what they did—rather than on whether they explicitly professed faith in Christ during their earthly lifetime. This is significant for our study because it suggests that the final judgment involves a comprehensive evaluation of the whole person, not a simple pass/fail test based on a single moment of belief.

Furthermore, as we noted in our discussion of Matthew 25 in earlier chapters, the fact that the judgment is based on deeds does not mean the punishment is eternal. Rising to face judgment does not mean the sentence will be without end. As Gregory of Nyssa understood, eschatological punishment serves a redemptive purpose: everyone will be judged, the length and severity will vary depending on the size of the debt, the punishment is redemptive, and when the debt has been paid, the punishment comes to an end.²¹

The bottom line is this: John 5:25–29 envisions a future moment when every dead person—every person who has ever lived and died—will hear the voice of the Son of God. This is a postmortem encounter with Christ of the most direct and personal kind. And Jesus promises that "those who hear will live." If we take Jesus at His word, then the dead are not beyond the reach of His voice, and His voice has the power to give life even to those who are in their graves.

V. Revelation 5:13 — Every Creature Singing Praise

"Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying: 'To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!'" (Revelation 5:13, NIV)

We turn now to what may be one of the most breathtaking visions in all of Scripture—a scene in which literally every creature in all of creation joins in a chorus of praise to God and to the Lamb. This is not a vision of partial redemption. It is not a picture of the saved worshipping while the lost gnash their teeth in outer darkness. It is a picture of universal, voluntary, joyful worship—and it includes creatures "under the earth."

That phrase—"under the earth" (Greek: hypokatō tēs gēs, ὑποκάτω τῆς γῆς)—is crucial. In the three-tiered cosmology of the first century, "under the earth" referred to the realm of the dead. Heaven was above, the earth was in the middle, and Hades—the abode of the dead—was below. So when John says that creatures "under the earth" are singing praise to the Lamb, he is saying that the dead in Hades—those who have departed this life—are joining in the worship.

Now, let us think about what this means. If the dead in Hades are singing praise to Christ, then they have responded to Him. They are not being forced to grovel or compelled to acknowledge a Lord they despise. They are singing. They are offering "praise and honor and glory and power." This is the language of worship, not of coercion. And worship, by its very nature, is a voluntary act of the heart.

The connection to Philippians 2:9–11 and Colossians 1:20 is vital here. As we examined in Chapter 14, Philippians 2:10–11 declares that every knee will bow—"in heaven and on earth and under the earth"—and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. Colossians 1:20 declares that through Christ "all things" will be reconciled to God. Some scholars have tried to limit the "all things" of Colossians 1:20 to only the redeemed in this life, partly because Colossians does not specifically mention creatures "under the earth." But Revelation 5:13 closes that loophole definitively. Here we have creatures "under the earth" explicitly singing praises to God.²³

So what do we have? Philippians 2:10 says everyone above and below the earth will bow and confess Christ as Lord. Colossians 1:20 says all things will be reconciled to Christ. And Revelation 5:13 says that everyone above and below the earth will sing God's praises. Taken together, these three passages paint a picture of a creation fully restored, fully redeemed, and fully worshipping its Creator. And the universalist model has the advantage of taking all three passages at face value without having to introduce the strained concept of "forced worship" or limit the scope of "all" to mean "some."

Robin Parry (writing as Gregory MacDonald) helpfully notes that this universal vision of worship in Revelation 5:13 serves as a proleptic anticipation—a flash-forward—of the universal worship that marks the fulfillment of God's purposes.²⁴ It is a glimpse of the end from the vantage point of the beginning of the Apocalypse. John sees the culmination before the story unfolds. And what he sees is not a divided creation—half saved, half damned—but a unified creation singing with one voice to the Lamb.

There is one more observation worth making. The context immediately preceding Revelation 5:13 is the vision of the Lamb who was slain (5:6) and the new song declaring that Christ's blood "purchased for God persons from every tribe and language and people and nation" (5:9). It is precisely the blood of the Lamb—His atoning death—that makes this universal worship possible. The scope of Christ's redemption is as wide as creation itself: every tribe, every language, every people, every nation, every creature in heaven, on earth, under the earth, and in the sea. This is the universal scope of the atonement that we argued for in Chapter 3, and Revelation 5:13 is its ultimate fulfillment.

Sharon Baker captures the essence of this vision beautifully when she describes how the nations that had previously rejected Jesus will one day stand before God, cleansed and purified by the fire of God's love, and will join the eternal chorus of praise.²⁵ Whether one reads this as a universalist or as someone who holds open the possibility of postmortem opportunity without insisting that all will accept, the vision of Revelation 5:13 is undeniably one of hope—vast, cosmic, all-encompassing hope—that the work of the Lamb will not ultimately be defeated.

VI. Revelation 20–22 — The New Jerusalem and Its Open Gates

We come now to what may be the most theologically rich—and most contested—section of the entire book of Revelation: the closing vision of chapters 20 through 22. Here we find the Great White Throne Judgment, the Lake of Fire, the new heaven and new earth, and the descent of the New Jerusalem. And woven throughout this climactic vision is a series of details that, when read carefully, point powerfully toward the possibility of ongoing postmortem opportunity even in the eschaton.

Rather than attempting to exegete every verse in these three chapters (several of which belong to other chapters in this book—see Chapter 21 on the taxonomy of Sheol, Hades, Gehenna, and the Lake of Fire; Chapter 23 on the divine presence model; and Chapter 33 on the final judgment), I want to focus here on several specific features that bear directly on our thesis. In particular, I want to engage with Robin Parry's brilliant reading of these chapters in The Evangelical Universalist, which has illuminated these texts in ways that traditional commentators have consistently overlooked.

A. The Gates That Are Never Shut (Revelation 21:25)

"The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life." (Revelation 21:23–27, NIV)

Here is one of the most tantalizing details in all of Revelation: the gates of the New Jerusalem are never shut. Why?

In the ancient world, the gates of a city served a single primary purpose: defense against enemies. When the city was under threat, the gates were closed. When it was safe, they were opened. So why are the gates of the New Jerusalem perpetually open? It is not because of carelessness. It is not an oversight on the architect's part. The wicked have already been judged. The Beast and the False Prophet have been thrown into the Lake of Fire. Satan has been defeated. There is no enemy left to threaten the city. So what function do perpetually open gates serve?

Parry argues that the answer is found in the Old Testament passage on which this vision is based—Isaiah 60:11: "Your gates will always stand open, they will never be shut, day or night, so that people may bring you the wealth of the nations—their kings led in triumphal procession." In Isaiah, the open gates serve a specific purpose: to allow the nations to enter. And Parry contends that the same is true in Revelation 21. The open doors, he writes, are not just a symbol of security but primarily a symbol of the God who excludes no one from His presence forever.²⁶

But here is where it gets really interesting. Look at who enters through these gates. It is "the nations" and "the kings of the earth." Now, who are "the nations" in the book of Revelation? Throughout the entire Apocalypse, "the nations" (ta ethnē) consistently refers to the rebellious, apostate peoples who oppose God. The nations are created by God and ought to worship Him (4:11), but instead they rebel. The Beast is given authority over them (13:7). They partake in the sins of Babylon and share in her judgment (14:8; 18:3, 23). Under Satan's deception, they persecute God's people (11:12) and are raised for the final battle against the saints (20:8). They are the objects of God's eschatological wrath (11:8; 12:5; 19:15).

And who are the "kings of the earth"? Parry traces their sordid career through the Apocalypse: they have committed fornication with Babylon (17:2; 18:3, 9), they have gathered for war against the Lamb (17:14; 19:19), and they have been defeated and thrown into judgment. Yet here, in 21:24, these very same kings of the earth are bringing their glory and honor into the New Jerusalem! They are entering through the open gates of the city of God!

How is this possible? There are only two locations in John's eschatological geography: inside the New Jerusalem (the realm of the redeemed) and outside the city in the Lake of Fire (21:8; 21:27; 22:15). The wall of the city marks the boundary between the two. If the nations and kings of the earth are now entering the city, they are coming from outside the city—which means they are coming from the Lake of Fire. The permanently open gates serve as the passageway. And the condition for entry is clear: "only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life" (21:27). This implies that the names of those who were once outside the city can subsequently be written in the Lamb's book of life—a process of postmortem salvation.

B. The Healing of the Nations (Revelation 22:2)

"On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations." (Revelation 22:2, NIV)

Here again we encounter "the nations" in a startling new context. The tree of life—the very tree from which humanity was barred after the Fall (Genesis 3:22–24)—now stands in the New Jerusalem, bearing fruit continually. And its leaves are for "the healing of the nations."

Why do the nations need healing? If all the redeemed are already inside the city and all the wicked are permanently consigned to the Lake of Fire, who is there left to heal? Parry observes that John has added "the nations" to his source text in Ezekiel 47:12, where the prophet describes trees whose leaves are "for healing." By inserting "the nations," John brings out his own special emphasis: the very nations that have rebelled against God, suffered His judgment, and been cast into the Lake of Fire are now the recipients of divine healing.²⁸ And the fact that this healing is promised after their condemnation in the Lake of Fire can only encourage a reading that sees ongoing salvific activity beyond the initial judgment.

C. The Ongoing Invitation (Revelation 22:17)

"The Spirit and the bride say, 'Come!' And let the one who hears say, 'Come!' Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life." (Revelation 22:17, NIV)

Even at the very end of Revelation—after the Great White Throne Judgment, after the Lake of Fire, after the vision of the New Jerusalem—the invitation remains open. "Come!" says the Spirit. "Come!" says the Bride. The water of life is offered freely to anyone who desires it. This is not a limited-time offer. It is not a door that has been permanently shut. It is an open, universal, ongoing invitation to receive the free gift of life.

As one writer observed, the invitation of the Bride is extended to all, and the gates of the New Jerusalem will always be open. No one who has not washed his robes and is not found written in the book of life can enter—but the invitation goes out continuously to all who are willing to come.²⁹

D. Every Curse Removed (Revelation 22:3)

Revelation 22:3 declares that "no longer will there be any curse." Mathias Rissi, in his influential study of the book of Revelation, argued that this means every curse is removed—including the curse of the Lake of Fire. Everything is made new (21:5). John alludes to Isaiah 43:19, but with the significant addition of "all": God makes all things new.³⁰ If "no curse" remains and "all things" are made new, then the Lake of Fire itself—which is nothing if not a curse upon the wicked—must eventually be emptied.

I should note that Parry himself is not fully convinced by Rissi's argument on this specific point. He observes that Revelation 21:1–8 seems to present the existence of the Lake of Fire (21:8) as compatible with the claim that God makes everything new (21:5). Nevertheless, Parry acknowledges that the cumulative weight of the evidence—the open gates, the nations entering the city, the healing of the nations, the tree of life, the ongoing invitation—creates a powerful case for the universalist reading of the Apocalypse.³¹

Whether or not one ultimately embraces full universalism, the evidence from Revelation 20–22 is remarkably consistent with the postmortem opportunity thesis. The gates are open. The nations are entering. Healing is available. The invitation stands. And the God who sits on the throne declares, "Behold, I am making all things new" (21:5). This is not the portrait of a God who has slammed the door of mercy shut. It is the portrait of a God whose love relentlessly pursues even those who have passed through the fires of judgment.

VII. Revelation 15:4 — "All Nations Will Come and Worship"

"Who will not fear you, Lord, and bring glory to your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship before you, for your righteous acts have been revealed." (Revelation 15:4, NIV)

Before we leave Revelation, there is one more passage that deserves careful attention. In Revelation 15:2–4, we find the saints who have been victorious over the Beast standing beside a sea of glass mixed with fire. They sing a song—identified as the Song of Moses and the Song of the Lamb—that celebrates God's justice and holiness. And the climax of their song is this stunning declaration: "All nations will come and worship before you."

The rhetorical question that opens the song—"Who will not fear you, Lord?"—alludes to Jeremiah 10:7, which asks the same question about the King of the nations. In both Jeremiah and Revelation, the expected answer is the same: no one. No one will fail to fear and worship God. All nations will come and bow before Him.

Now, as Parry demonstrates at length, the "nations" in this passage are the same rebellious, apostate nations whose judgment has been described throughout the Apocalypse.³² These are not nations that have already been converted. These are nations currently in rebellion—nations over whom the Beast exercises authority, nations that have drunk from Babylon's cup of fornication. And yet the Song of Moses and the Lamb declares with prophetic confidence that all of them will come and worship.

Some commentators, recognizing the difficulty this creates for the traditional view, have tried to read this worship as forced—an involuntary acknowledgment wrung from defeated enemies. But as Parry points out, the Greek word proskuneō (worship) is used in Revelation only of voluntary worship, whether of God or of the Beast. There is no suggestion of forced worship in this text.³³ The underlying allusion to Psalm 86:9–10—"All nations that you have made will come and worship before you, O LORD, and they will glorify your name, because you are great and you do marvelous things"—further supports a positive interpretation. The Psalmist envisions genuine, heartfelt worship from all the nations God has created.

G. K. Beale, a major Revelation commentator who does not hold to universalism, recognizes the difficulty and offers a fall-back position: perhaps the text suggests that at the consummation of history, all will acknowledge God's glory, "either willingly or forcibly."³⁴ But this is precisely what the text does not say. There is no "forcibly" in the passage. There is only worship—pure, unqualified, voluntary worship offered by "all nations."

For our purposes, the significance of Revelation 15:4 is this: it provides yet another piece of evidence that the final vision of Scripture is not one of cosmic division but of cosmic restoration. The nations that rebelled will one day worship. The enemies of God will one day fear His name and bring Him glory. How exactly this happens—whether through postmortem opportunity, through the purifying fire of God's presence, or through some other means—is a question we explore throughout this book. But the fact that it will happen is affirmed here in the mouths of the victorious saints themselves.

VIII. Isaiah 25:6–8 — God Will Swallow Up Death Forever

"On this mountain the LORD Almighty will prepare a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine—the best of meats and the finest of wines. On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove his people's disgrace from all the earth. The LORD has spoken." (Isaiah 25:6–8, NIV)

We turn now from the New Testament to the Old, and to one of the most glorious prophecies in all of Scripture. Isaiah 25:6–8 is a passage of breathtaking scope and beauty, and its implications for the question of postmortem salvation are profound.

First, notice the scope of the feast. It is prepared "for all peoples" (lekol-ha'ammim). This is not a banquet for Israel alone, nor for a select group of the righteous. It is for all peoples—every nation, every ethnicity, every group of human beings that has ever existed. The God of Israel is throwing a party, and the whole world is invited.

Second, notice what God does at this feast. He destroys "the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations." This "shroud" or "covering" is most naturally understood as death itself—the veil of mortality that hangs over all human existence. And then comes the explicit statement: "He will swallow up death forever." Death will not merely be paused or postponed. It will be swallowed up—consumed, obliterated, done away with completely.

Third, notice the universality of the consolation: "The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces." Not "from the faces of the elect." Not "from the faces of those who believed during their earthly lives." From all faces. Every tear, from every eye, of every person who has ever wept. This is the same imagery picked up in Revelation 21:4, where God wipes every tear from the eyes of those in the New Jerusalem. But Isaiah's original prophecy is broader—it encompasses "all faces" and "all peoples."

This passage does not prove postmortem salvation in isolation, of course. But it paints a picture of God's ultimate intention for humanity that is deeply consonant with the hope of postmortem opportunity. The God of Isaiah 25 is a God who prepares feasts for all peoples, who destroys the power of death, and who tenderly wipes every tear from every face. This is the God we are arguing for throughout this book—a God whose love does not stop at the grave.

We should also note that Isaiah 25:6–8 is part of a larger section of Isaiah (chapters 24–27, sometimes called the "Isaiah Apocalypse") that deals with eschatological themes—God's final judgment and ultimate restoration of all things. Within this broader context, the universal scope of Isaiah 25 is not an anomaly but a consistent theme. God's plan, according to Isaiah, is not to save a remnant and destroy the rest but to swallow up death itself and bring comfort to all who have ever mourned.

IX. Psalm 139:7–8 — God's Presence in Sheol

"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there." (Psalm 139:7–8, NIV)

David's great psalm of God's omnipresence contains a statement that is easy to read past but carries immense theological weight. "If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there." God is present even in the realm of the dead. There is nowhere in all of creation—not the highest heavens, not the deepest depths of the underworld—where God is absent.

Now, why does this matter for our discussion? Because if God is present in Sheol—the realm of the dead—then the dead are not beyond His reach. They are not in a God-forsaken place where no divine activity can occur. They are in the presence of the same God who "desires all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth" (1 Timothy 2:4), the same God whose "steadfast love endures forever" (Psalm 136), the same God who "is not far from any one of us" (Acts 17:27).

Given what we argued in Chapter 2 about the character of God—that He is fundamentally a God of love, mercy, and relentless grace—it follows that wherever God is present, He is present with salvific intent. He does not go to Sheol as a passive observer. He goes as the God who sent His Son to seek and save the lost (Luke 19:10). If God's presence extends to the very realm of the dead, then His saving purpose does as well.

This connects powerfully to the divine presence model of judgment that we develop in Chapters 23–23C. On that model, hell is not a place of God's absence but of His overwhelming presence—a presence experienced as glory by the righteous and as tormenting fire by the wicked. Psalm 139:8 supports this by affirming that God's presence extends even to Sheol. If God is there, then the door to redemption is not closed. As long as God is present—and God is always present—there is the possibility of encountering His love and responding to it.

This truth was not lost on the early church fathers. Many of them understood God's omnipresence to mean that no soul is ever truly beyond God's redemptive reach. If Sheol is not outside the scope of God's presence, then neither is it outside the scope of His mercy. The descent of Christ to Hades (Chapters 11–13) is the ultimate expression of this truth: God's presence did not merely "reach" into Sheol; God Himself entered the realm of the dead to proclaim the gospel.

X. Additional Supporting Passages

Before we draw this chapter to a close, I want to briefly survey several additional passages that, while not requiring the extended treatment we have given the major texts above, nevertheless contribute to the cumulative biblical case for postmortem salvific opportunity.

A. Matthew 18:21–22 — Forgiveness Without Limit

"Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, 'Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?' Jesus answered, 'I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.'" (Matthew 18:21–22, NIV)

Jesus teaches that human forgiveness should be unlimited—not seven times, but seventy times seven (or seventy-seven, depending on the translation). The point is the same either way: there is no numerical limit on how many times we must forgive. Now, would the God who commands us to forgive without limit impose a strict, inflexible deadline on His own forgiveness? Would He require of us a generosity that He Himself refuses to practice? Jesus explicitly says that we are to forgive in order to be "sons of your Father in heaven" (Matthew 5:45)—that is, to imitate the character of God. If God's character is one of limitless forgiveness, then it is at least possible—I would say probable—that His offer of forgiveness extends beyond the moment of physical death.³⁶

B. Luke 15 — The God Who Seeks the Lost

The three great parables of Luke 15—the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son—paint a portrait of a God who actively, relentlessly, joyfully pursues the lost. The shepherd does not stop looking until the sheep is found. The woman does not stop sweeping until the coin is recovered. The father does not stop watching for the son's return.

These parables are primarily treated in Chapter 2 (to which we refer the reader for the full treatment), but their relevance here is straightforward: if God actively seeks the lost in this life, why would He stop seeking them after death? As one writer asked, will the Good Shepherd keep searching until He finds the last lost sheep, or will He content Himself with the percentage already in the fold?³⁷ The very character of God as depicted in Luke 15 presses us toward the conclusion that His seeking love does not have an expiration date.

C. Colossians 1:23 — The Gospel Proclaimed to Every Creature Under Heaven

"This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven." (Colossians 1:23, NIV)

Modern readers tend to skip over this phrase without noticing its significance. But in the first-century cosmological framework, "every creature under heaven" included not only those currently living on the earth but also those living under the earth—the dead residing in Sheol or Hades. As Beilby explains, contemporary ears do not hear this as it was intended, because we have a different cosmology. But in the first century, those "under heaven" included the dead.³⁸ If the gospel has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven—including the dead—then the gospel is not limited to the living. The dead, too, have heard the good news.

D. Prayers for the Dead in Second Temple Judaism

While the idea of praying for the dead is foreign to many contemporary Protestant ears, it was present in Second Temple Judaism and was a relatively common practice in the patristic era. The primary Jewish example is found in 2 Maccabees 12:38–45, where Judas Maccabaeus makes a sin offering for fallen soldiers found wearing idolatrous amulets. As Beilby notes, Judas acted in this way because he "was looking to the splendid reward that is laid up for those who fall asleep in godliness" (2 Maccabees 12:45).³⁹ While 2 Maccabees is not part of the Protestant canon, the practice of praying for the dead reflects a widespread Second Temple belief that the condition of the dead could be changed—that death was not the absolute, final boundary many later theologians would make it.

The relevance for our study is not that 2 Maccabees constitutes inspired Scripture (for many in our audience, it does not) but that it demonstrates the theological context within which the New Testament was written. The early Christians inherited a Jewish tradition that already believed in the possibility of beneficial postmortem activity—a tradition that forms the cultural and theological backdrop for passages like 1 Corinthians 15:29 (baptism for the dead, discussed in Chapter 15) and 1 Peter 3:18–4:6 (Christ's preaching to the dead, discussed in Chapters 11–12).

E. Luke 23:34 — "Father, Forgive Them"

"Jesus said, 'Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.'" (Luke 23:34, NIV)

On the cross, Jesus prayed for the forgiveness of His executioners. Did God answer that prayer? If so, then at least some of those who crucified Jesus—people who did not profess faith in Him at the time—were forgiven. And if God can forgive those who murder His Son while they are in the very act of doing it, can we really insist that His forgiveness is unavailable after death? The prayer of Jesus on the cross reveals a God whose instinct toward sinners, even the worst sinners at the worst possible moment, is forgiveness. This does not prove postmortem salvation, but it powerfully reveals the character of the God who might offer it.

F. Acts 3:19–21 — The Restoration of All Things

"Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord, and that he may send the Messiah, who has been appointed for you—even Jesus. Heaven must receive him until the time comes for God to restore everything, as he promised long ago through his holy prophets." (Acts 3:19–21, NIV)

Peter declares that heaven must receive Christ "until the time comes for God to restore everything"—the apokatastasis pantōn (ἀποκατάστασις πάντων), the "restoration of all things." While the primary exegesis of this passage belongs to Chapter 14, it is worth noting here that the concept of a universal restoration is deeply embedded in the earliest Christian preaching. Peter does not say God will restore some things. He says God will restore everything—and he claims this was prophesied "long ago through his holy prophets." This connects to the prophetic visions of Isaiah 25:6–8 and other Old Testament texts we have examined, forming a continuous thread from the Hebrew prophets through the apostolic preaching: God's ultimate plan is total restoration.

XI. The Cumulative Weight of the Evidence

We have now covered a great deal of ground in this chapter, and it is worth stepping back to see the forest rather than just the individual trees. Let me summarize what we have found.

In Matthew 12:32, Jesus implies that some sins can be forgiven "in the age to come"—a statement that is meaningless if no forgiveness is possible after death. In Matthew 5:25–26 and its parallel in Luke 12:58–59, Jesus uses the word "until" to describe a punishment that has a definite endpoint—the paying of the last penny. In 1 Corinthians 3:11–15, Paul envisions a purifying fire that tests every person's work and through which even the person who has built nothing of value can be saved—"yet so as through fire." In John 5:25–29, Jesus declares that the dead will hear His voice and that those who hear will live—a postmortem encounter with the Son of God. In Revelation 5:13, every creature in heaven, on earth, and under the earth—including the dead—sings voluntary praise to the Lamb. In Revelation 15:4, the saints prophesy that all nations will come and worship God. In Revelation 20–22, the gates of the New Jerusalem are never shut, the nations and kings of the earth enter the city, the leaves of the tree of life are for the healing of the nations, and the Spirit and the Bride extend an ongoing invitation to all who thirst. In Isaiah 25:6–8, God prepares a feast for all peoples, swallows up death forever, and wipes tears from every face. In Psalm 139:8, God's presence extends even to Sheol, leaving no soul beyond His reach.

When we add this evidence to what we have already established in previous chapters—the descent of Christ to the dead (Chapters 11–13), the universal reconciliation passages (Chapter 14), the Pauline witness (Chapter 15), the character of God (Chapter 2), the universal scope of the atonement (Chapter 3), and the problem of the unevangelized (Chapter 4)—the case for postmortem salvific opportunity becomes, I believe, very strong indeed. We are not building on sand. We are building on a broad, deep, and solid biblical foundation.

Now, I want to be honest about what this evidence does and does not prove. It does not prove universalism—the belief that every single person will ultimately be saved. As we discuss in Chapter 30, the author of this book does not hold to universalism, although I respect the scholars who do and take their arguments seriously. What this evidence does show is that the Bible repeatedly and consistently points toward a God whose saving work continues beyond the grave—a God who offers postmortem opportunity to those who did not hear, did not understand, or did not respond during their earthly lives.

For the conditional immortalist (and I count myself in this camp, as discussed in Chapter 31), this means that the final judgment is the last opportunity—the ultimate encounter with God in all His glory—before the verdict becomes irrevocable. For the universalist, it means that God's love will eventually win every heart. For anyone who holds the traditional view of eternal conscious torment, these passages should at least give serious pause. The God of Matthew 12:32, of 1 Corinthians 3:15, of Revelation 5:13, of Isaiah 25:6–8, and of Psalm 139:8 is not a God who has given up on the dead. He is a God who pursues, seeks, calls, and heals—and He does not stop at the grave.

In the next chapter (Chapter 17), we will turn to the Old Testament foundations of this hope, examining how God's dealings with the dead in the Hebrew Scriptures lay the groundwork for the New Testament's more explicit teaching on postmortem opportunity. But as we close this chapter, let me leave you with the image that has stayed with me throughout this study: every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth, singing praise to the Lamb. That is the vision of the end. That is where the story is heading. And if that is the destination, then the journey there must include a path for the dead to find their way home.