For nearly two thousand years, the book of Revelation has drawn criticism from both ancient and modern readers, many of whom have been skeptical of its fantastical imagery, violent portrayals of judgment, and the theological implications of its apocalyptic content. The Apocalypse of John Among its Critics: Questions & Controversies, edited by Alexander E. Stewart and Alan S. Bandy, presents an apologetic response to such critiques by assembling a team of evangelical scholars who address interpretive and theological challenges posed by both historical and contemporary approaches to Revelation. The contributors respond not only to concerns raised by modern critical theory but also to persistent questions that arise from the distinctive interpretive difficulties Revelation presents. In doing so, they offer an apologetic for Revelation’s inspiration, its ethical coherence, and historically and culturally grounded readings of the text.

In Chapter Two, Alan Bandy addresses the question, “Should John’s apocalypse be in the canon?” After all, it was the last book to be canonized in the New Testament due to enduring debates surrounding its authorship and interpretive complexity. Dionysius, a third-century bishop of Alexandria, significantly influenced early skepticism by arguing that Revelation could not have been authored by John the Apostle, citing notable grammatical and theological differences between Revelation and the Gospel of John. These concerns, coupled with the book’s controversial themes (e.g., the millennium in Revelation 20) fueled doubts regarding its ecclesial relevance. Although the Western Church had recognized Revelation as canonical by the fourth century, the Eastern Church did not formally accept it until the seventeenth century. Nevertheless, Bandy affirms that Revelation rightfully belongs in the canon, asserting that it offers a high Christology and occupies a vital role in shaping Christian faith and worship.

Next, Ian Paul discusses the literary genre of Revelation and seeks to answer the question, “What kind of text is the book of Revelation?” (pp. 36, 49). He begins by articulating the importance of this inquiry, noting that genre plays a critical role in shaping one’s interpretive approach to the text. Paul then engages with John J. Collins’s influential definition of apocalyptic literature, as articulated in the 1979 issue of Semeia, acknowledging its value as a foundational framework. However, he ultimately questions whether Revelation meaningfully conforms to this classification, suggesting that it diverges in significant ways from other examples of Second Temple apocalyptic literature (p. 39). Paul emphasizes that Revelation is not merely apocalyptic but also distinctly Christian in its orientation and exhibits characteristics of both prophetic and epistolary genres. He proposes that if John intended Revelation to serve as a canonical conclusion, he may have deliberately incorporated elements from a range of established Scriptural genres to reinforce its theological and literary significance.

In the fourth chapter, Alexander Stewart responds to the question, “Was John a bully?” by analyzing the motivations behind John’s use of fear-based rhetoric throughout Revelation. Drawing on argumentation theory (particularly the work of Robert Kimball and Douglas Walton), Stewart argues that the moral permissibility of threats depends on the character, intentions, and purposes of threatener. Consequently, he presents his reading of the text in which God, Jesus, and John are all morally righteous and therefore justified in their use of threats. Further, he situates John within the tradition of Jewish prophetic literature, where warnings of covenant curses were intended to call the community back to faithfulness. Stewart concludes that John employs fear in the Apocalypse as a pastoral strategy intended to encourage a beloved audience to repent and remain faithful.

“Did John delight in violence?” Or, worse, does God? Dana M. Harris offers a twofold response to these questions. First, she argues that much of Revelation’s violent imagery functions metaphorically and without literal violent intent. Second, she contends that what is often termed “divine violence” is more accurately described as “divine judgment” because God’s actions are portrayed as measured responses to human injustice with fundamentally redemptive and restorative aims. Citing Terence E. Fretheim, Harris underscores the claim that “if there were no human violence, there would be no divine violence” (p. 74). Tracing the arc of the biblical narrative, she maintains that divine judgment must accompany God’s ultimate expulsion of sin. Furthermore, Harris contextualizes Revelation within the pervasive violence of the Roman Empire, suggesting that the text’s violent imagery serves as a counternarrative to imperial domination. While the dragon asserts authority through coercion and destruction, the Lamb and his followers “conquer” through sacrifice and faithful witness. In this way, Harris interprets John as subverting Rome’s violent framework rather than reproducing it. God’s judgment, then, is not an expression of divine delight in violence but a necessary and just interruption of the world’s destructive cycles.

In Chapter Six, Külli Tõniste seeks to answer the question, “Was John a male chauvinist?” She first situates herself as a theologically conservative scholar whose interpretive approach differs from more progressive, gender-focused readings of Revelation. Tõniste then briefly surveys several passages often considered problematic for women, most of which involve metaphorical imagery (e.g., Rev 7; 12; 14:1–5; 17–18; 21). While acknowledging the disturbing nature of the portrayal of the whore of Babylon in chapters 17–18, she draws on Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza’s work to argue that symbolic figures in apocalyptic literature do not directly reflect the author’s views on actual women (p. 96). Tõniste then considers the role of women in the narrative, contending that although women appear less frequently and in fewer active roles than men, they nonetheless occupy key positions that move the story forward (such as the woman who gives birth to the Messiah in chapter 12 and the bride who serves as a model for believers in chapter 21). She concludes by emphasizing that meaningful interpretation of Revelation requires historical, cultural, and canonical awareness, suggesting that only readers equipped with such frameworks can engage the text responsibly (p. 105).

Michael Naylor tackles the question of whether John can fairly be labeled intolerant by examining his forceful critiques of rival theological and ethical positions within the early Messianic movement. These include the false apostles (2:2), the Nicolaitans (2:6), the followers of Balaam (2:14-15), and those aligned with Jezebel (2:20-23). Countering the view that John’s prohibition of idol food (2:14) contradicts Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 8-10, Naylor asserts that both early church leaders ultimately rejected any social behaviors implying participation in or endorsement of idolatry. Thus, he seeks to dismantle attempts to associate Paul with Balaam (and Jezebel with Lydia). Naylor further explains that John’s harsh language is best understood within the prophetic traditions of the Hebrew Bible and the cultural norms of Second Temple Judaism, where strong polemical language was common. Similar rhetorical strategies can also be found in other New Testament texts, indicating that John’s tone was not unusual for his time. While Naylor concedes that differing views on orthodoxy and orthopraxy might lead to other interpretations, he ultimately frames John’s severity as an expression of prophetic fidelity to God, not personal intolerance.

In the eighth chapter, Rob Dalrymple explores the question, “Was John antisemitic?” After acknowledging the abhorrent antisemitism that emerged in the early church and has persisted since, he examines Revelation’s letters to Smyrna and Philadelphia, both of which reference the “synagogue of Satan” (2:9; 3:9). He identifies the group John criticizes—those who claim to be Jews but are not—as specific Jews in those cities who actively opposed the Christ-following members of their communities. Dalrymple suggests that, in order to preserve their exemption from emperor worship, these Jews severed ties with Christ followers by excluding them from the synagogue and through public disavowal. As a result, these believers faced intense pressure from Rome to conform or suffer consequences. Dalrymple sees John casting a vision of ultimate reality in which his audience represents the true Jews, understood as God’s chosen people, while those who reject Christ and oppose his followers do not. He further argues that Jewish opposition is associated with Satan because “whoever opposes God’s people is doing the work of the devil,” whether imperial or Jewish (p. 140). In John’s dualistic world, people either worship God or the dragon, and harsh judgment is reserved for the latter. Given John’s Jewish identity, prophetic tone, and apparent engagement in an intra-faith conflict (p. 147), Dalrymple concludes that antisemitic readings of Revelation misinterpret both the author’s context and intent.

David Mathewson addresses the question of whether John should be considered a false prophet, given Revelation’s repeated references to Christ’s imminent return (1:1, 3; 2:16; 3:11; 22:6, 10, 12, 20). These texts have led many to conclude that John expected the Parousia to occur within his own or his audience’s lifetime. However, Mathewson argues that John’s intent is not to offer a precise timetable for Christ’s second coming, but to create a sense of ethical urgency in light of it. His rhetorical strategy emphasizes the certainty and ever-present possibility of Christ’s return in order to exhort faithful living, rather than to predict its precise arrival. Further, the text of Revelation itself anticipates this potential delay. When the Lamb opens the fifth seal, the martyrs cry out for justice but are instructed to wait, as the end will not come until many more believers have likewise suffered and died as martyrs (6:9–11). Similarly, the structure of Revelation creates the expectation of an imminent end through its three sevenfold cycles (the seals, trumpets, and bowls), only to repeatedly defer it. This literary design reinforces the message that while Christ could return at any moment, the timing remains open. John’s approach aligns with other New Testament voices (1 Thess 4:13–5:11; James 5:8; 1 Pet 4:7), which call believers to steadfastness in anticipation of a return that is always near, though never precisely fixed. Mathewson thus concludes that John is not a failed prophet, but a faithful one who calls his audience to perseverance in light of Christ’s certain return.

In Chapter Ten, Mark Wilson examines whether the apocalypse advocates political subversion. From the book’s introduction, Christ is portrayed as an emperor (archon) who establishes an alternative kind of empire (1:5), framing Revelation as a political critique. Wilson surveys how New Testament texts address government, noting that the Roman Empire had exceeded its God-ordained role by pressuring believers toward idolatrous worship (p. 168). He then outlines the reach of Roman influence in first-century Asia Minor before analyzing Revelation’s language of governance through categories such as authority, dominion, titles, and symbols. Ultimately, Wilson argues that Revelation promotes political subversion rather than resistance. Rather than encouraging its audience to seize power like the oppressor, it promotes the creation of alternative relational networks to challenge systemic imbalance. When applied uncritically to the 21st century, misreadings of Revelation can lead to problematic actions, such as Christians’ defiance of COVID-19 mandates or participation in the Capitol riot. These responses overlook the vastly different circumstances of modern believers, who are generally called to obey governing authorities according to broader New Testament instruction. Ultimately, Revelation calls believers to a form of faithful subversion characterized by nonviolent witness and a readiness to suffer, even to the point of death, in allegiance to the Lamb.

In the afterword, G. K. Beale offers a retrospective analysis of the past thirty-five years of scholarship on John’s use of the Old Testament in Revelation, focusing on the central question of whether John’s allusions preserve the original meaning of the texts he references. As Beale’s own doctoral dissertation helped catalyze this scholarly conversation, he traces the development of academic engagement with the topic from the early twentieth century through to the most recent contributions, concluding with work up to 2019 (the year he presented the foundational version of this chapter at ETS). A significant portion is devoted to his well-known debate with Steve Moyise, who argues that while Revelation inevitably interacts with Old Testament contexts, it remains the dominant interpretive lens without fully erasing the contextual import of the source texts. While recognizing the diversity of views within the rich body of research developed over the course of his career, Beale concludes with a reaffirmation of his long-held position that “the Old Testament informs the New Testament and the New Testament informs the Old Testament” (pp. 245–246).

Overall, The Apocalypse of John Among Its Critics offers an up-to-date overview of evangelical scholarship on Revelation, particularly in response to critical theorists who approach the text with differing hermeneutical presuppositions. While the volume succeeds in articulating a consistent apologetic framework, some arguments are likely to be persuasive only to readers who already share the authors’ theological commitments. For example, in chapter four, Stewart contends that threats can be issued with moral integrity only if the threatener possesses morally righteous motives. He assumes, however, that readers will accept the moral legitimacy of divine threats simply because Revelation itself describes God as “true” (6:10) and “holy” (4:8; 6:10; 15:4; 16:5). This reasoning rests on the presumption that the text’s own attributions of divine character are sufficient justification for its claims. Later in the chapter, Stewart critiques the “hermeneutic of suspicion,” suggesting it illegitimately imports meaning “from the outside to deconstruct the explicit message and claims of the text” (p. 64). Yet this critique overlooks the reality that a hermeneutic of trust likewise brings external assumptions to the text, namely, a predisposition to accept its theological claims at face value.

A comparable dynamic emerges in chapter six, where Tõniste explores gender in Revelation. She argues that interpretation should focus solely on authorial intent, and she dismisses some social-scientific approaches as distractions from “the serious task of interpreting the story of Revelation and its intended purposes” (p. 99). However, while such studies may pursue different goals, examining how Revelation’s gendered imagery has been used to marginalize or harm women is a serious, meaningful, and necessary task in its own right. In such moments, the book functions more as an apologetic aimed at reinforcing doctrinal confidence than as a bridge for constructive dialogue between traditional and critical approaches.

Nevertheless, the present work offers a substantial and theologically grounded response to key interpretive challenges surrounding the book of Revelation. Its strength lies in the coherence of its purpose, the diversity of questions it addresses, and the editors’ clear commitment to engaging both traditional and contemporary issues within a robust evangelical framework. Throughout the volume, one finds careful scholarship, pastoral sensitivity, and a desire to contribute meaningfully to broader scholarly conversations. As such, the book serves as a valuable resource for students, pastors, and scholars alike, and it models how confessional scholarship can participate thoughtfully and faithfully in dialogue with critical scholarship on one of Scripture’s most challenging and symbolically rich texts.

Jael G. Shumaker
MDiv Student
Denver Seminary
May 2025