The unity of God’s people is grounded not in lineage nor land but in the promise of the coming Christ.
Debate about the relationship between the Church and Israel has been commonplace in Christian theology for quite some time. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, it was part and parcel of the emergence and expansion of premillennial dispensationalism. After World War II, it was shaped by investigations into the theological roots of European antisemitism and Christian reflection on the meaning (if any) of the establishment of the nation of Israel in 1948. In recent years, it has intensified, especially as the influence of Christian Zionist theology on American foreign policy is increasingly exposed.
At the center of the discussion is the issue of what is often called supersessionism or replacement theology—terms used to describe the belief that the Christian Church has abrogated or replaced Israel in God’s redemptive plan because Israel rejected Christ. According to this understanding, the Jewish people no longer have a distinct role in God’s purposes, and the promises once given to Israel now belong exclusively to the Church. This, according to popular televangelist John Hagee, is the very theological root of antisemitism.
Such accusations are a distraction from the real question. And it’s a question the church has wrestled with since the first century. The question is: Who are the people of God?
A helpful answer is found in Luther’s understanding of church history, or what might be called his doctrine of the perpetual church. This is the conviction that God has always preserved one people for himself, from Adam to the end of the world, united not by ethnicity or geography but by faith in the promised Messiah, regardless of whether that faith looked forward or back to his arrival.
Paul does not erase Israel; he reveals its true nature. Israel consists of those—Jew or Gentile—who share Abraham’s faith in the Messiah.
This doctrine guards against two opposite errors. On one side is a harsh, punitive form of supersessionism that imagines God permanently discarding the Jewish people. On the other is the dual-covenant approach of premillennial dispensationalism that posits parallel paths of salvation—one for Jews, another for Christians.
Both positions distort the biblical witness. The Lutheran view instead emphasizes that God’s plan unfolds in a single story centered on Christ.
What makes this view compelling, though, is not that Luther alone taught it. Rather, it’s that the New Testament itself teaches it. It does not portray the church as a new entity formed after Israel failed, nor does it envision two parallel peoples of God. Rather, it presents Christ as the fulfillment of Israel’s identity and mission, and the church as the continuation—and enlargement—of Israel through him.
Paul expresses this with striking clarity. “Not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel,” he writes (Rom. 9:6), shifting the definition of Israel from ancestry to faith. Gentiles who believe in Jesus are not planted in a separate Gentile plot; they are “grafted in” to Israel’s own olive tree (Rom. 11:17–24). Through union with Christ, they become heirs of the promise made to Abraham (Gal. 3:29). Paul does not erase Israel; he reveals its true nature. Israel consists of those—Jew or Gentile—who share Abraham’s faith in the Messiah.
This biblical insight grounds Luther’s doctrine of the perpetual church. For Luther, the church did not begin at Pentecost but at the dawn of history. In his Lectures on Genesis, he wrote, “The church of God existed from the beginning of the world and will endure until the end of the world.” Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, the prophets, and the apostles all belong to the one church because they trusted in the same Christ, first promised and then revealed in Jesus of Nazareth. Commenting on the story of Cain and Abel, Luther observed: “From the beginning of the world there has been one holy church of God, never extinct, though sometimes hidden.” The unity of God’s people is therefore grounded not in lineage nor land but in the promise of the coming Christ. The church is the community gathered around that promise, first given to the patriarchs, fulfilled in Jesus, and proclaimed to the nations.
Understanding this continuity helps clarify what Christians should—and should not—mean when speaking about the church superseding or replacing Israel. If the claim is that God has rejected the Jewish people or revoked his promises to them, then it must be rejected outright. Paul explicitly states that Israel remains “beloved for the sake of the fathers” for “the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable” (Rom. 11:28–29). But if “replacement” is taken to mean that the promises given to Israel reach their intended fulfillment in Christ—and that all who belong to Christ share in those promises—then the term requires clarification. The church does not erase or eliminate Israel; rather, through Christ, it participates in the very promises that define Israel’s story. In this sense, the church does not stand over against Israel, but instead is the fulfillment or expansion of the same covenant God initiated with Abraham.
This framework also provides clarity for thinking about the modern State of Israel. The contemporary Israeli state is a political nation. It is in no way a continuation of the Old Testament covenant community. It has no Davidic king, no divinely appointed priesthood, no temple, and no sacrificial system—features essential to Israel’s identity under the old covenant. Christians may support Israel or critique it on political, ethical, or humanitarian grounds, but the New Testament does not assign covenantal status to any modern nation-state. The promises to Abraham were always directed toward the coming of Christ and, through Christ, toward the inheritance of “the world” (Rom. 4:13) and the renewal of creation.
The church does not stand over against Israel as its rival. Nor does it exist apart from Israel as an unrelated community.
Recognizing these distinctions helps Christians avoid collapsing theological identity into geopolitical loyalties. Believers may rightly pray for the peace of Jerusalem and seek justice for all who live in the region, but their citizenship is in heaven (Phil. 3:20), and their allegiance belongs to Christ, whose kingdom “is not of this world” (John 18:36). Christ is indeed king. The people of God—whether before or after Christ’s coming—are those united to him by faith, not those who belong to a particular ethnic group or political nation (Gal. 3:26–29).
In the end, Luther’s doctrine of the perpetual church provides a coherent and faithful way of addressing the concerns surrounding replacement theology. It affirms the unity of God’s people throughout history and the continuity of God’s promises in Christ. It upholds the enduring dignity and belovedness of the Jewish people without placing them on a separate redemptive path. And it rightly locates the church’s identity not in replacing Israel but in participating in the fulfillment of God’s promises through the Messiah.
Viewed through this lens, the debate over supersessionism or replacement theology comes into sharper focus. The church does not stand over against Israel as its rival. Nor does it exist apart from Israel as an unrelated community. Rather, the church stands within the single redemptive story that began in Eden, was embodied in Israel, and reaches its fulfillment in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. Through Christ alone, God gathers one people to himself—a people defined by faith in his promise, sustained by his mercy, and united across the ages as the family of Abraham.
