One of the most common objections to Christianity is the apparent contrast between the God of the Old Testament and the God revealed in Jesus. The Old Testament God is often described as violent, punitive, and severe, while the New Testament God appears gentle, forgiving, and self-sacrificial.
But Scripture itself insists that this contrast cannot be real. If God does not change, then the difference between the Old and New Testaments must lie not in God’s character, but in humanity’s understanding of Him.
- “I the LORD do not change.” (Malachi 3:6)
- “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)
The God of the Old Testament is the exact same God revealed in Jesus. What changes across Scripture is not God’s nature, but the clarity with which humanity understands Him.
Throughout Scripture, God consistently meets people where they are, working within their cultural, moral, and spiritual limitations in order to lead them forward. Jesus Himself affirms this principle when discussing divorce, explaining that Moses permitted it “because of the hardness of your hearts,” even though “from the beginning it was not so (Matthew 19:8).” This distinction between divine permission and divine ideal is crucial. God allows certain practices in a broken world not because they reflect His character, but because immediate moral perfection was impossible for people whose understanding of God was still deeply distorted.
This same pattern appears throughout Jesus’ teaching, most clearly in the Sermon on the Mount. Again and again, Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said… but I say to you” (Matthew 5:21–48). In doing so, He is not rejecting the law or the prophets, nor is He portraying the Old Testament God as mistaken or cruel. On the contrary, He explicitly affirms, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them”(Matthew 5:17). What Jesus exposes is NOT a failure in God’s law, but a failure in how it had been understood. God’s commands were meant to change people from the inside out, but over time they came to be treated as rules that only governed outward behavior and were often enforced through fear and power. Jesus uncovers the deeper purpose of these commandments, revealing their concern for inner transformation rather than mere outward obedience. This is clearly seen in Matthew chapter 5-7. He explains that “You shall not murder” is not only about killing, but about anger and contempt in the heart (Matthew 5:21–22). “You shall not commit adultery” is not just about physical acts, but about lustful intent (Matthew 5:27–28). “An eye for an eye,” originally meant to limit revenge, becomes a call to refuse retaliation altogether (Matthew 5:38–39). And love, once limited to one’s neighbor, was revealed in its fullest depth when Jesus called His followers to “bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you.” (Matthew 5:43–44). Jesus makes explicit what had always been implicit: God’s concern has never been mere behavior modification, but inner restoration, truth written on the heart, not merely enforced in action (Jeremiah 31:33; Matthew 23:25–26). In this way, Jesus does not replace the law; He brings it to its intended depth and meaning. Paul writes that the law still serves an important purpose—through it we come to understand what sin is (Romans 7:7). Obedience was never meant to be driven by fear or external pressure. Jesus clarifies the intent of the Old Testament, showing that when we accept His commandments and allow Him to transform our hearts, obedience becomes an expression of love: “If you love Me, keep My commandments” (John 14:15), and “Whoever says ‘I know Him’ but does not keep His commandments is a liar” (1 John 2:4).
A vivid example of this progressive revelation can be seen in the contrast between Elijah and Jesus. In 2 Kings 1:10–12, Elijah calls down fire from heaven to consume those who oppose him, and the text records that fire indeed falls at his word. Elijah does not claim this power as his own; rather, he appeals to God for divine validation. “If I am a man of God, let fire come down from heaven.” Elijah was acting within a world where authority was demonstrated through overt displays of power. Israel lived among nations whose gods proved themselves through violence and domination (cf. 1 Kings 18:24–39), and fire from heaven was the language by which divine authority was recognized. Yet when James and John later ask Jesus to do the same to a Samaritan village, explicitly citing Elijah as precedent—“Lord, do You want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them, just as Elijah did?” Jesus rebukes them sharply: “You do not know what manner of spirit you are of. For the Son of Man did not come to destroy men’s lives but to save them” (Luke 9:54–56). In doing so, Jesus does not condemn Elijah, nor does He deny the authority of Scripture. Instead, He reveals that such actions, though permitted within an earlier and limited framework of understanding, never fully reflected the heart of God. Now standing in the presence of God incarnate, the One who is “the exact representation of His being” (Hebrews 1:3), the disciples are accountable to a clearer revelation of divine character, one defined not by coercive power but by redemptive love.
This contrast does not indicate a change in God, but an expansion of human understanding. The book of Hebrews states that while God spoke in many ways in the past, He has now spoken most fully through His Son, who is “the exact representation of His being.” Progressive revelation does not mean earlier generations worshiped a different God; it means they perceived the same God through incomplete lenses. With greater light comes greater responsibility. Elijah acted faithfully within the limits of his context, but Jesus’ disciples are called beyond fear-based power toward sacrificial love.
Ultimately, the question is not whether God once ruled by fire and later by grace, but which moment most clearly reveals who God has always been. Scripture answers unambiguously: not through rules or displays of power, but the life, teachings, and self-giving death of Jesus. “No one has ever seen God,” John writes, “but the only Son… has made Him known (John 1:18).” When Jesus refuses to call down fire, He is not correcting God—He is revealing Him. The apparent difference between the Old and New Testaments, then, is not a shift in God’s character, but the unveiling of it. In Jesus, God does not become kinder; He becomes clearer.