What Did Jesus Mean When He Said He Fulfilled the Law? Understanding Matthew 5:17 in Its Biblical and Theological Context

What did Jesus mean when He said, “I did not come to abolish the Law or the Prophets, but to fulfill them”? That statement from Jesus in Matthew 5:17 has been at the center of much theological debate for centuries, and unfortunately, this question continues to be a serious point of contention for many Christians today. Did Jesus come to cancel the law or to cast it out as if it was useless? Or did He come to obey it perfectly on our behalf? Or perhaps He came to help us continue it in some deeper and more spiritual way? As you can see, the possible answers to this question appear to be endless. There are many well-meaning Christians on all sides of the interpretive aisle who continue to wrestle with this question not because it is a great academic exercise. No—they wrestle with this because the answer to this question shapes how we live the Christian life today. It determines how we think about the Sabbath, dietary laws, civil punishments, and even whether Christians should seek to influence government with Old Testament law.

That is why, in this post, we’re going to take a deep dive into this question—and we’re going to take it slow. The goal is clarity, not necessarily speed or brevity. Far too often, readers fly past Matthew 5:17 or settle for a surface-level reading without considering the broader context of the biblical narrative. But we’re not going to make that mistake here. Instead, we’re going to walk through this verse step by step, examining what Jesus says, what He doesn’t say, and how His words fit into the biblical narrative as a whole. See, it’s not enough for me to simply give you the answer—because in my experience, that rarely works. Rather what I’ve noticed is that what lasts is when someone learns how to understand the passage for themselves. That’s what I want for you. So let’s begin our journey to discover what Jesus truly meant when He said He came to fulfill the Law and the Prophets.

The Lexical Range of Plēroō (Fulfill)

Now, to understand what Jesus meant by “fulfill,” we need to first look at the Greek word behind it—πληρόω (plēroō). This word carries a rich and layered meaning, and what's important to note is that Matthew’s choice to use it is anything but random. Unfortunately, translating it simply as “fulfill” in English doesn’t quite capture the full semantic range of the Greek. That’s why we’re going to walk through how plēroō is used throughout the New Testament, and even the Septuagint (the Greek translation of the Old Testament), to get a more complete understanding of what this word means and how it is typically used.

So, at its most basic level, plēroō means “to fill up” or “to make full.” You can think of it in terms of a cup being filled to the brim, or a task being completed. It can even be used in very literal ways—for example, a boat being filled with fish (Matthew 13:48) or someone being filled with joy (John 16:24). Now, what's interesting is that the New Testament also uses this word in deeper theological contexts, where it takes on the sense of completion, bringing something to its intended goal, or accomplishing what was promised or anticipated.

Take Luke 2:6, for example: “And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth.” The phrase “the time came” is plēroō—in other words, the time was fulfilled. Notice that it doesn’t mean the time was “continued in a deeper way.” But rather it means the appointed time had reached its end; its purpose had arrived.

We also see plēroō used repeatedly in connection with prophetic fulfillment. This is more than likely Matthew's favorite usage of the word. In his Gospel, He constantly says things like, “This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet…” (Matt. 1:22; 2:15; 2:17; 4:14; etc.). And as you can see, in every case, plēroō is used to show that something from the Old Testament has reached its climax in Jesus. A prophecy is not simply “continued in a deeper way” by Jesus. Instead, it is completed, brought to full light, and sometimes even reinterpreted in the light of the cross. Or to use an analogy that Paul gives in Colossians, the shadows give way to the substance. The promises are realized. That is plēroō.

And speaking of Colossians, Paul also uses the word in this sense. In Colossians 1:25, he says that he became a minister of the church “to make the word of God fully known.” The phrase again is plēroō—Paul's becoming a minister brings the word of God to its fullness. It accomplishes its purpose. Another example of Paul's usage of plēroō can be found in Ephesians 4:13 where writes that believers are to grow “to the measure of the stature of the fullness (plērōma) of Christ.” And so do you see now how this sense of plēroō as completion, goal, or fulfillment of purpose is deeply embedded in the New Testament’s use of the word?

So when we approach Matthew 5:17, we are not bringing a vague or shallow idea of “fulfill" that is completely absent from Scripture. Rather we are bringing a biblically defined, textually supported concept: plēroō means to bring something to its end, its goal, its full expression—after which its provisional form passes away, because the reality has come.

Interpreting Matthew 5:17—What Did Jesus Mean by “Fulfill the Law”?

With the meaning of plēroō in hand, we can now turn to the passage itself:

“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

Now as mentioned earlier, this verse is often cited by Christians across a wide spectrum of theological traditions, yet few take the time to read it carefully, and even fewer still define “fulfill” with any depth. There are some who argue that Jesus is saying He didn’t come to cancel the law, but to continue it. There are others who believe He meant to obey it perfectly, leaving it intact for us to imitate. And there are even those who suggest that somehow He deepened its meaning and reissued it in spiritualized form. But as we’ve already seen, plēroō doesn’t mean any of those things in a straightforward way. Instead, it means to bring to full completion or to realize the intended purpose of something.

That means Jesus is not denying that the law would come to an end. Rather He’s clarifying how it would end. There's a difference. The law will end not by it being trashed, but by it being fulfilled—brought to its intended goal. Unfortunately, what many people miss is that the contrast in the verse isn’t between ending vs. continuing; it’s between abolishing without purpose and fulfilling with purpose. In other words, Jesus is saying, “Don’t think I’ve come to discard the law arbitrarily. I’ve come to accomplish everything it pointed to.”

Now, to demonstrate this, let's take a moment to interact directly with a popular interpretation that says Jesus was claiming to “continue the law in a deeper way.” To many, this sounds attractive at first. And that's understandable. After all, doesn’t Jesus go on to intensify the law in the verses that follow? Doesn't He say, “You have heard it said… but I say to you,” and then applies commandments to the heart, not just behavior? And it's true that He does proceed to do that after this verse. But this is where we need to pause and ask: what does “continue in a deeper way” actually mean?

There are two possible meanings, and they couldn’t be more different in their implications:

View A: Continue the Law of Moses, just with Jesus in mind

This view holds that the entire Mosaic Law remains in force—Sabbath, dietary laws, feast days, purity laws—but must now be obeyed in light of Christ. The form stays the same; but the motive shifts. For those who don't know, this is the dominant belief in Torah Observant Christianity, Hebrew Roots movements, and many forms of Messianic Judaism. They all claim that Jesus didn’t end the law, but just made it more meaningful—so we should still eat kosher, observe the festivals, keep the seventh-day Sabbath, and circumcise our children, just with Jesus at the center of it all.

But the problem with this interpretation is that it flatly contradicts the rest of the New Testament. Paul says that in Christ, believers are “not under the law” (Rom. 6:14), that “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness” (Rom. 10:4), and that “if you accept circumcision, Christ will be of no advantage to you” (Gal. 5:2). He tells the Colossians not to let anyone judge them in regard to a Sabbath or festival or food law because “these are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ” (Col. 2:16–17). So if “continue in a deeper way” means “still follow Torah, just with a new motive,” then it fails the test of apostolic teaching and collapses into a false gospel that Paul condemns.

Also, how exactly do we plan on continuing to keep the law “just with Jesus in mind”? If you’re going to follow Torah, you can’t just pick a few moral commands and call it faithful obedience. You have to deal with the fact that most of the 613 commandments can’t be kept today at all. There’s no functioning temple. There’s no Levitical priesthood. There are no sacrifices. So what do you do with the dozens—if not hundreds—of laws tied to tabernacle worship, offerings, purification rituals, and covenantal festivals?

And what about the sacrificial system itself? The heart of the Mosaic covenant was its blood offerings—daily, weekly, yearly sacrifices for sin. If those are gone (and they are), then a huge chunk of the law is unkeepable. If the law is still in effect, and we can’t keep most of it, then we’re not actually law-keepers—we’re lawbreakers. The Torah doesn’t give you the option to keep it “in principle.” It commands you to keep it in detail.

So unless you’re planning to rebuild the temple and reinstate the priesthood—something the book of Hebrews would strongly warn against—then this whole idea collapses under its own weight. “Keeping the law with Jesus in mind” ends up becoming either a shallow pick-and-choose exercise, or a burdensome attempt to reconstruct an expired covenant. Neither option honors what Jesus actually accomplished.

View B: Jesus fulfills the law’s purpose and transforms it

This view understands “fulfill” as meaning to bring to completion, to satisfy what the law was always pointing toward. It recognizes that Jesus was not “continuing” the Mosaic covenant, but finishing it, and then replacing it with something new. In this view, the law still matters—it led us to Christ—but once it reaches its goal, it gives way to a better covenant, a better priesthood, and a better law.

This view is consistent with how plēroō functions in Matthew and the rest of the New Testament. It affirms the goodness of the law, the righteousness of God’s commands, and the continuity of God’s moral nature—without keeping believers tethered to a covenant that has now passed away.

So to be clear: saying “Jesus fulfilled the law” does not mean He simply continued it with more intensity. It means He brought it to its intended completion, kept its terms perfectly, and in doing so terminated its covenantal function. This is why Paul can say, “Before faith came, we were held captive under the law… but now that faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian” (Gal. 3:23–25).

We’ll now explore what Jesus instituted in its place: a new and better law, built not on Sinai, but on the cross.

Jesus Instituted a New and Better Law

Now, understandably, this is where many people start to ask: "Well, if Jesus fulfilled the Mosaic Law and thereby brought it to an end, then what replaces it? Because certainly we are not lawless, right?" And they are absolutely right to say that we are not lawless because the answer to the first question isn’t “nothing.” Jesus didn’t fulfill the law to usher us into moral anarchy. Rather He fulfilled the law in order to inaugurate a new covenant—and with it, a new law. The New Testament gives this law a name: the Law of Christ.

Paul mentions it explicitly in Galatians 6:2: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” He mentions it again in 1 Corinthians 9:21, where he distinguishes himself from those “under the law” (i.e., the Mosaic law) by saying he is “not under the law but under the law of Christ.” This is hugely significant. Paul sees the Law of Moses and the Law of Christ as mutually exclusive categories. You’re either under the old covenant or the new—you can't be under both.

And so what is the Law of Christ? Well, it’s not a random list of new rules. Instead, it’s the expression of God’s moral will, revealed in and through Jesus, written on our hearts by the Holy Spirit, and summed up in the command to love God and love neighbor. In other words, it reflects the moral heart of the Mosaic law but not the covenantal structure or ceremonial details. As Romans 8:4 says, the righteous requirement of the law is now fulfilled in us, who walk not by the flesh but by the Spirit.

The law of Christ is better than the law of Moses in every way. Why? Because it’s not external—it’s internal. It doesn’t just restrain sin—it transforms hearts. It’s not administered by a priesthood of sinners, but by a perfect, resurrected High Priest. Hebrews 8:6 tells us that Jesus is the mediator of a better covenant, enacted on better promises. And Hebrews 8:13 goes even further: “In speaking of a new covenant, he makes the first one obsolete.”

This is why it’s crucial to emphasize: Jesus didn’t just intensify the law—but that He replaced it. Not in a spirit of rebellion or abolition, but through fulfillment. The old covenant served its purpose. It prepared the way. It restrained sin. It revealed the holiness of God and the sinfulness of man. But, and this is important, once the substance arrives, the shadow is no longer binding.

Now, of course, that doesn’t mean the moral commands of God have changed. God has always hated murder, lying, adultery, and injustice—and always will. But under the Law of Christ, these commands are no longer covenant obligations tied to national Israel; they are the Spirit-empowered fruit of union with Christ. And that distinction matters. This is not just symmantics. Rather it's the difference between “Do this to stay in covenant” and “Walk by the Spirit because you are in Christ.”

So no, we’re not lawless. We’re under a better law. And this law is not a weaker law. It's not a more relaxed law. But rather it is a law that reflects Christ Himself—His love, His holiness, and His finished work on our behalf.

Why the Law Cannot Be Divided Into Moral, Ceremonial, and Civil

Now, interestingly enough, one of the most common attempts to preserve portions of the Mosaic Law—especially among Reformed and theonomic circles—is the idea that the law should be divided into three categories: moral, ceremonial, and civil. The argument goes like this: while the ceremonial laws (like sacrifices and purity rituals) were fulfilled and done away with, the moral and civil laws remain in force—either in whole or in principle. Now , admittingly, that sounds neat. It sounds manageable, right? But here's the problem: that's not how the Scripture treats the Mosaic Law. That threefold division is a manmade framework—a theological convenience, not a biblical category.

The Bible consistently refers to the law as a unified covenantal system. Moses doesn’t say, “Here are your ceremonial laws, your civil codes, and your moral principles.” Instead, He presents the Torah as a whole—a single, indivisible covenant. In Deuteronomy 4:13, Moses says God “declared to you his covenant, the Ten Commandments, which he commanded you to follow and then wrote them on two stone tablets.” That covenant included not just the Ten Commandments, but all the statutes and rules that followed. James 2:10 echoes this unity when he says, “Whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it.” And do you see? The law was never meant to be a buffet. It’s a contract. And the terms were simple—if you break one commandment, then you’ve broken the entire covenant.

And here’s where it gets uncomfortable for those who say the law continues “with Jesus in mind.” If you claim that the Mosaic Law still applies, even in a spiritualized or moralized form, then you must apply all of it. That includes:

• The slave regulations of Exodus 21, including the rule that if you beat your slave and he dies a few days later, you’re not punished.

• The child stoning laws of Deuteronomy 21 for rebellious sons.

• The capital punishment laws for adultery, homosexuality, blasphemy, false prophecy, Sabbath-breaking, and idol worship.

• The economic laws that require debt cancellation every seven years and ban charging interest to fellow Israelites.

• The punishments for rape and virginity laws, some of which seem horrifying in a modern context.

You can’t keep the Sabbath but reject the slavery laws. You can’t affirm dietary codes but ditch the stoning laws. If the law continues, it all continues. That’s the logical consequence of seeing the law as ongoing.

Now, to be clear: I’m not pointing out these laws—like slavery regulations, capital punishments, or child stonings—because I think they were bad, unjust, or beneath God’s character. The law is holy, righteous, and good (Rom. 7:12). Every command in it was perfect for the people and the covenant it was given to. But I raise these examples to call for consistency. And that’s exactly how we've got systems like Theonomy.

Many theonomists, to their credit, would see this and say, "Yes and Amen. Let's stay consistent." How they see it is that if God gave the civil law to Israel, then it must reflect His perfect justice, and therefore it should be the model for modern governments. And to be honest, I understand that instinct. I understand that it is often rooted in a fear of appearing ashamed of God’s Word—as if rejecting the Mosaic law is to reject God’s moral authority. But the problem is that fear misidentifies what’s happening in redemptive history.

What theonomists miss is that the Mosaic Law, including its civil codes, was given to a specific people under a specific covenant for a specific time. And that covenant is now obsolete (Heb. 8:13). And more importantly, God is not unjust for ending it—rather He is faithful to His redemptive plan. Paul makes this crystal clear in Romans 2:14–15, where he says that Gentiles who did not have the law are judged not by the Torah bu by their conscience. And when God judged pagan nations like Babylon, Edom, or Nineveh, He didn’t judge them for breaking Sabbath or not building parapets on their roofs. He judged them for violating natural law—which is that moral truth written on the heart.

This is why theonomists—though often well-meaning—end up distorting the role of the Mosaic Law in redemptive history. They attempt to build modern civil policy on the foundation of a covenant that no longer exists. And even when they try to soften this with terms like “general equity,” they still preserve the assumption that the Mosaic civil code is binding in principle, if not in detail.

But if Christ actually fulfilled the law like He said He did, and we are no longer under its covenant, then the civil laws are not the ideal to return to—rather they were part of a provisional system. See, God’s moral will hasn’t changed, but His covenantal administration has. And now that we are in the new covenant, we are no longer under the law of Moses but under the Law of Christ.

Why This Matters—The Gospel, Legalism, and Liberty

Now, at this point, some readers might be thinking, “Okay, this is interesting theologically, but how much does this really matter?” And the answer is: more than you even realize. See, how we understand Jesus’ fulfillment of the law doesn’t just shape how we interpret Old Testament commandments—but rather, it shapes how we understand the gospel itself, how we live the Christian life, and whether we walk in freedom or drift back into legalism.

Unfortunately, misunderstanding Matthew 5:17 has led many well-meaning Christians into heavy spiritual bondage. When “fulfill” is taken to mean “continue,” or even “continue in principle,” we inevitably end up back under some version of the law. Whether that’s through literal Sabbath-keeping, kosher diets, Old Testament tithing structures, or attempts to reinstate civil punishments, the result is the same: Christians living like old covenant Israelites, rather than new covenant sons and daughters. And i'm sorry, but that’s not liberty—that's regression.

Paul dealt with this exact problem in the book of Galatians. False teachers were telling Gentile believers that faith in Jesus wasn’t enough—that they needed to keep the law too. Circumcision. Festivals. Torah. The whole bit. And what was Paul’s response? Well, I can tell you that it was not gentle. He wrote: “O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?… Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law or by hearing with faith?” (Gal. 3:1–2). Then later he said: “For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” (Gal. 5:1). In other words, Paul calls any attempt to blend Torah with Christ a false gospel (Gal. 1:6–9).

This is why clarity on plēroō—on what Jesus meant by “fulfill”—is not a side issue. It’s about guarding the purity of the gospel. If Christ fulfilled the law in the sense of completing and terminating it, then believers are no longer under it. Not under parts of it. Not under principles of it. Not under its categories. We are under Christ. And it is only when we truly understand this that liberty begins.

But we must also be equally clear: liberty is not lawlessness. Jesus didn’t free us so we could do whatever we want. Freedom from the law of Moses does not lead to antinomianism. Rather He freed us so we could live by the Spirit and bear the fruit of love. Romans 13:8–10 teaches that love is the fulfillment of the law—not because it erases morality, but because love achieves the goal that the law pointed toward all along. Under the Law of Christ, we are not without moral guidance—we are walking temples, indwelt by the Spirit of the living God, empowered to live righteously from the inside out.

This is the scandalous beauty of the gospel: what the law could not do—because it was weakened by our sinful flesh—God did, by sending His Son and writing a new law on our hearts. And in doing so, Christ didn’t lower the standard. Instead, He raised it, met it, and gave us Himself to live it through us.

So yes, this matters. It matters for how we read the Bible, how we relate to God, how we view others, how we walk in freedom, and how we resist both legalism and lawlessness. When Jesus said He came to fulfill the law, He wasn’t laying a heavier yoke on your shoulders. He was lifting it off—and placing Himself there instead.

CONCLUSION

So, what did Jesus mean when He said He came to fulfill the Law and the Prophets? Well, now we know that He didn’t mean He came to prop them up. He didn’t mean He came to continue them with deeper sincerity. And He certainly didn’t mean He came to repackage the Mosaic code into a Christian lifestyle guide. Instead, He meant that He came to bring the entire old covenant system to its God-ordained goal—to complete it, satisfy it, embody it, and thereby terminate its covenantal role.

Plēroō—to fulfill—means to bring to fullness. And when something is full, you don’t keep filling it. When a prophecy is fulfilled, you don’t keep waiting for it. When a contract is fulfilled, you don’t keep obeying its terms. You rejoice, because the goal has been reached. That’s exactly what Jesus did. He didn’t abolish the law out of rebellion. He fulfilled it out of righteousness. And in doing so, He gave us something infinitely better: Himself, a better covenant, and the Law of Christ written on our hearts.

Look, I understand the temptation. The temptation to hold onto the old covenant—whether through moral confusion, cultural loyalty, or theological zeal—is real. But I just need us to understand that when we try to go back, we actually end up missing what has already come. We end up misunderstanding the shadows as if they were the substance. We end up beginning to idolize the scaffolding, even though the building now stands in glory.

So, don’t fall into that trap. Don’t let the vague language of “continue in a deeper way” open the door to Torah observance, or to theonomic reconstructions of Mosaic justice. Those roads may seem faithful at first glance—but they lead away from the finished work of Christ and back toward a covenant that has served its purpose and been fulfilled.

Instead, stand firm in the liberty Christ died to give you. Rejoice that the old has passed away and the new has come. And walk boldly—not according to tablets of stone, but according to the Spirit of the living God, in step with the Law of Christ.

“For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” (John 1:17)

Jesus didn’t just fulfill the law. He replaced it with something far greater.

Resources to Consider

1. “The End of the Law: Mosaic Covenant in Pauline Theology” by Jason C. Meyer

2. “40 Questions About Christians and Biblical Law” by Thomas R. Schreiner

3. "Kingdom Through Covenant" by Peter J. Gentry & Stephen J. Wellum