Saints Alive
Commentary
Is there a book of the Bible more abused than Revelation? Has the interpretation of any book of the Bible caused more confusion and division in the church than this one? Probably not. So we do well to approach any Revelation text with humility and fear.
It is well to begin by recognizing that Revelation was written under peculiar circumstances. The author is a seer, passing on what he has received through visions and dreams. The materials are pictorial, not intended for literal interpretation. The book is sensual. The author wants his readers to smell, feel, hear, and see what he has received through his own senses. Most of all, he wants them to find hope in a time of intense persecution -- a time so fragile that one dare speak only through sign and symbol to those who stand inside the circle of faith so that those on the outside will not understand. But sign and symbol are not without meaning. On the contrary, sign and symbol convey meaning better than a literal reading.
Chapter 7 is part of the transition section of Revelation. The church under persecution in this world, as depicted in the earlier chapters, is becoming the church of triumph. This vision of the saints alive in heaven is but the completion of the hope that has been at the heart of the message to God's people. There are an estimated 370 references to the Old Testament in the book of Revelation! This is not a postscript to the Word of God. This is fulfillment of the promise that has been with them from the beginning.
Important as it is to celebrate the victory of the saints, the center of the lesson is not on them, but on the Lamb. The saints stand "before the Lamb" (v. 9); they sing "Salvation ... to the Lamb" (v. 10); their robes are made white "in the blood of the Lamb" (v. 14); and, finally, "the Lamb (is) at the center of the throne" (v. 17). Persecution and turmoil will continue. But the saints of God can be calm under the worst of circumstances because they are "sealed" by the One who will claim final victory over the Evil One and all forces that try to destroy them. Life for the saints of God "will be defined positively by the guiding and leading of him whom his church now knows as the Good Shepherd. Jesus Christ himself will lead them to those sources out of which they receive imperishable life, depicted here in the image of the life-giving water. In communion with him the Old Testament promise ... will find its fulfillment." (Jurgen Roloff, Revelation, Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993, p. 100.)
Isaiah 26:1-4, 8-9, 12-13, 19-21
This is surely an appropriate lesson for All Saints' Sunday. On this day we remember the dead. What evidence do we have that they will live again? On what basis can we hope that there will be more for them -- and for us?
The prophet lives at a time when there is little external hope for the future. The land has been virtually depopulated. Traditions and institutions have been demolished. Yet, in the midst of such hopelessness we find this magnificent psalm of praise and thanksgiving. The opening phrase "On that day..." is common to all prophetic literature. Like a thread running through all prophecy, it is the word that expresses the confidence of the preacher that the last word has not been spoken, that God will vindicate the just.
It is thought by some that this lesson represents a later time in the history of Israel -- possibly as late as the second century B.C. However it be judged in that regard, it is clear that this text represents another step in the development of the idea that there is resurrection, that there is life beyond death. The prophet gives thanks for those who endure and hold on to the faith. But what about all those who died in the meantime? What about those who did not surrender their faith and integrity? It is with them in mind that the prophet says, "Your dead shall live, their corpses shall rise. O dwellers in the dust, awake and sing for joy!" (v. 19).
Accompanying this ringing affirmation of life is an equally strong appeal to patience. Peace is a gift to "those of steadfast mind" (v. 3). The devout "yearn for you in the night" (v. 9). The righteous are told to "enter your chambers, and shut your doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until the wrath is past" (v. 20). The prophet is sure that God will act in God's right time.
We see this prophecy, of course, through the lens of the New Testament and the life of Christ. We should try to put ourselves in the shoes of the Isaiah. He had nothing to go on but his own faith that a just and loving God would act when the time is ripe. We are privileged. We can preach to those who mourn that God has moved into history in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Our proclamation is based not only on what God will do, but on what God has done in Christ.
1 John 3:1-3
Though we can be certain that all the resources needed for endurance are ours in Christ, it does not follow that we are already "home free." John's first letter is addressed to a church where, like the churches in Thyatira (Revelation 2:18-29) and Laodicia (Revelation 3:14-22), believers are in danger of succumbing to false teachings. The first ardor has cooled. The specific problem seems to be a question about the nature of the Christian life. Possibly influenced by the Gnostic movement, some believers seem to think they have already made it, that they have attained perfection.
The author wants these believers to remember that we live in the "not yet." "What we will be has not yet been revealed." This is what is sometimes called "honorable agnosticism." What lies ahead is so far beyond our comprehension that we can only guess at its dim outlines. It will be so much greater than anything we have known in this life that we must be content not to see it in its fullness. As in Revelation, we cling to sign and symbol. It is an idea that Paul writes of in his letters -- a "down payment" on what is to come. The final outcome lies in the realm of hope.
There are, however, several things that can be said. First, "we shall be like him." There is something here of the promise of the restoration of the imago dei that was lost in the Fall. God's purpose and destiny for the human family will be realized again in the age to come. Furthermore, "We shall see him as he is." The "vision of God" that runs as a strong thread through the great devotional writings of the mystics is not alien to the most ordinary believer. Embedded in the heart of every Christian is the longing to know God more intimately, to understand better the nature of life at its fullest, to unravel the mysteries that now surround our understanding of God. This strong promise is that the saints will one day come to that moment.
The personal and intimate nature of Christian hope shines out of this text. To call God "Father" is to risk intimacy with one who is "Wholly Other" and beyond our comprehension. Yet, that is the scandal of the Gospel -- that we can approach the unapproachable One and be confident that we are welcome.
This hope becomes the motivation for Christian living. While perfection -- even remotely -- may elude us, we are always on the way toward that goal. The life of sanctification is a call to daily discipline, constant prayer, intentional good works, and pursuit of the highest ideals. Though there is no way to measure where we are on that way -- in fact, no need to measure -- yet, God's call is for a life of godliness that can be called "the pilgrim's progress."
Revelation 21:9-11, 22-27
There was a prevalent idea in the first-century thought that everything on earth had its perfect counterpart in another realm. Christianity picked up this pattern of thinking and redefined it for the believing community. The Letter to the Hebrews develops this idea more than any other book of the New Testament. Things on earth are called "copies" or "shadows" of things in heaven.
In this text from Revelation we see this idea played out. The author takes descriptions out of an ideal setting -- the perfectly planned city -- and projects them on life to come, life in "the holy city Jerusalem." By taking the best he can think of from this world, the writer tries to help the believer to imagine what is to come.
In our day we are more inclined to associate the ideal with places of wildness, undeveloped parts of the world where humans have not spoiled the landscape. When we think of places where we can be close to God, we tend toward thoughts of places apart, places where we are not bothered by the interference of other humans.
But we should remember that cities have often been the focus for the ideal. In an age when most lived in simple, poorly-constructed homes, what a glorious sight it must have been to see the Temple at Jerusalem or the tombs of kings and pharaohs. Even today we dream of re-creating slums, of making metropolitan areas more livable, of beautification projects that will transform urban places. And some even dream of cities where good will and human kindness will prevail.
Is not a city a good image of what we hope for? Bonhoeffer suggested that one who cannot be alone cannot be in community; and one who cannot be in community cannot be alone. We are born as individuals, but into community. We die alone, but we want family and friends with us and we want to die with the hope that we will live again in community. Thus, the idea of a "holy city," though not to be understood literally, is surely a good way to think of our future on this All Saints' Sunday. Are those who die in the faith destined a life of solitude? Is it not better to think of them living on in community, living on in God's "holy city"? And what more hopeful word than this: "God himself will be with them" (21:3)?
The fact that the "holy city" is not to be taken literally is borne out in verses 22 and 23 where it is said that God will be sufficient for every need in the life to come. And where is it all centered? On the cross. It is the Lamb, the Suffering Servant of the Lord, who makes life possible in this "city of God."
Matthew 5:1-12
Many preachers dread this text -- the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Mount. And for good reason. Christian history is replete with diverse suggestions on what to do with it. Some Roman Catholics tend to see it in terms of "counsels of perfection." This is advice to sincere believers on how they can progress in the Christian walk. And, according to some streams of this tradition, the perfection called for is attainable only by those who devote themselves wholly to its pursuit -- such as monks, priests, and nuns.
Sectarians of various stripes tend to see it as a vision of a life that is attainable by all sincere believers, but only if they put their full effort to the enterprise. Having been freed from sin by faith in Christ, one is given the resources to grow toward a holy life. The notion of "sinless perfection" has crept into some of these traditions.
Others, like Lutherans, believe that all are called to the life described here, but that it is unattainable in this world. From this perspective, the words of Jesus almost take the form of law, reminding us of how far short we fall and how desperately we need to trust in God's grace alone.
Whatever approach one may choose, it is critical to recognize the setting. These words are not for the masses. Jesus has separated himself from the crowds in order to have intimate time with his chosen twelve. It is to them, believers who have moved out of their former lives and into the innermost circle, that he speaks.
The Beatitudes are divided into two parts. The first set is more personal. A disciple is one who knows poverty of spirit, sorrow, humility, and hunger for more of the life of righteousness. This one is sensitive to the winds of the Spirit, understanding that God alone can fill the deep longings of the heart. There is a call to contemplation, to reflection, to spiritual sensitivity.
The second section looks outward. Those "on the way" are also committed to a life that shows in word and deed that they are disciples. They show mercy, they seek to live above reproach, they work for peace in the world, and they are ready and willing to endure hate and persecution for the sake of truth.
Any of us who have traveled to the Holy Land understand the poignancy of this text. As we stand on the Galilean hillside we can easily conjure up an idyllic scene. Jesus is there in that peaceful setting with his chosen twelve, giving them advice and counsel on how to change the world for the better. We forget for a moment that the world of the first century was no different from the world of the late-twentieth century. There was constant turmoil. Jesus was only one of thousands who were strung up on a cross. In only a few decades Jerusalem would lie in ruins, the final act in a succession of terror and rebellion. What we see on our television screens today is only a continuation of what has been. We are no closer to the world our Lord envisioned.
But isn't that the point? The words of Jesus to his first disciples are the same for the saints who live today. The Beatitudes are meant to be lived, imperfect though the effort may be. They are practical advice for everyday living in a world of trouble and anxiety.
We must also see that every Beatitude stands in bold contrast to what is seen as the ideal in our culture: Be rich, avoid pain and sorrow, hunger and thirst for power, reach your goals regardless of the cost to others. It is not hard to find consensus regarding the ideals of what Jesus teaches. Who would not subscribe to the Beatitudes? But, as the poet has said, "We worship his teaching, but are afraid to live it."
Suggestions For Preaching
In many congregations this is a day to remember with gratitude those believers who have had great influence on us personally, on the church, and on society as a whole. It is a good day to recall in the prayers of the church those who have died in the past year.
We might also ask our listeners to take a moment to recall those saints of God who have had a singular impact on their lives -- Christian parents and grandparents, godparents, Sunday church school teachers, godly neighbors, friends, spouse, child, co-worker, and others. Why do we appreciate them? Why remember with gratitude some of those who have died? What qualities stand out? What is it about them we want to embrace in our own lives?
It will soon be apparent that many of the qualities that seem to bring most immediate success in life are those which wither and are most quickly forgotten when one dies. In contrast, it is those selfless qualities -- the accents of the Beatitudes -- that endure and leave the most long-lasting impact. In the midst of our own turmoil -- personal and societal -- and in the full confession of our own failure, we ask for grace to walk as living saints of God.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Revelation 7:9-17
Visions of heaven are notoriously suspect. Generally, they tell you much more about the one hoping than the hoped for. But John the seer has found a reliable track to follow right into the new world. It is the First Commandment, "I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods before me."
In this life, the commanding dimension of these words tends to claim a priority. God takes the field against every rival to which we might turn for help, significance or purpose apart from him. The First Commandment is a flat out attack on every form of idolatry, whether it be as blatant as a tin god or as subtle as depending too heavily on a personal relationship.
But there is promise in the First Commandment, evident in the words themselves. "I am the Lord, your God" -- not "I will be when ...," or "I hope to be if ...." It is an unqualified assertion, the word your bringing it home at a personal level, both plural and singular. This is no dispassionate, self-possessed Unmoved Mover of Greek speculation; it is the warm-blooded God of the Hebrews, moving in to claim you and those to whom you belong as possession. "I am yours; you are mine," the language of love.
In this life, the command and the promise fight it out. The same God speaks -- it is one word. But a sinner hears both indictment -- the exposure of all of the investments that have laid claim to more of the heart than appropriate -- as well as the promise of a relationship beyond condition or performance.
But there is coming a time, a new day, when the First Commandment will be promise, pure and simple. It is that time that John, stuck with himself, oppressed on Patmos, can see emerging out of the future. He can see it because he knows that the God who has said, "You shall have no other gods before me," is the God who has said and will say, "I am the Lord your God."
The sight John sees is enough to blind you with its radiance. There is a riot of color, a cacophony of language, varieties of variety, but there is one voice. It declares the promise of the First Commandment as fulfilled: "Salvation belongs to our God ... and to the Lamb." This voice is echoed by an angelic choir, crying out in prayer, praise, and thanksgiving.
Amidst this gorgeous outpouring, the saints are identified. They are the ones who have been through the troubles -- who have been lured by the false alternatives, who have been seduced by the pretenders, who have been rolled over by the powers. They are those who wondered if they had any faith left, who went down nobly or denouncing the dark but who couldn't depart -- whether in joy or abandonment -- without calling the name of the Lamb forever blessed.
And so now, in the end, God is God for them: the God he has always been and evermore shall be, stooping in redemptive majesty to soak up the smallest teardrop, your God.
It is well to begin by recognizing that Revelation was written under peculiar circumstances. The author is a seer, passing on what he has received through visions and dreams. The materials are pictorial, not intended for literal interpretation. The book is sensual. The author wants his readers to smell, feel, hear, and see what he has received through his own senses. Most of all, he wants them to find hope in a time of intense persecution -- a time so fragile that one dare speak only through sign and symbol to those who stand inside the circle of faith so that those on the outside will not understand. But sign and symbol are not without meaning. On the contrary, sign and symbol convey meaning better than a literal reading.
Chapter 7 is part of the transition section of Revelation. The church under persecution in this world, as depicted in the earlier chapters, is becoming the church of triumph. This vision of the saints alive in heaven is but the completion of the hope that has been at the heart of the message to God's people. There are an estimated 370 references to the Old Testament in the book of Revelation! This is not a postscript to the Word of God. This is fulfillment of the promise that has been with them from the beginning.
Important as it is to celebrate the victory of the saints, the center of the lesson is not on them, but on the Lamb. The saints stand "before the Lamb" (v. 9); they sing "Salvation ... to the Lamb" (v. 10); their robes are made white "in the blood of the Lamb" (v. 14); and, finally, "the Lamb (is) at the center of the throne" (v. 17). Persecution and turmoil will continue. But the saints of God can be calm under the worst of circumstances because they are "sealed" by the One who will claim final victory over the Evil One and all forces that try to destroy them. Life for the saints of God "will be defined positively by the guiding and leading of him whom his church now knows as the Good Shepherd. Jesus Christ himself will lead them to those sources out of which they receive imperishable life, depicted here in the image of the life-giving water. In communion with him the Old Testament promise ... will find its fulfillment." (Jurgen Roloff, Revelation, Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993, p. 100.)
Isaiah 26:1-4, 8-9, 12-13, 19-21
This is surely an appropriate lesson for All Saints' Sunday. On this day we remember the dead. What evidence do we have that they will live again? On what basis can we hope that there will be more for them -- and for us?
The prophet lives at a time when there is little external hope for the future. The land has been virtually depopulated. Traditions and institutions have been demolished. Yet, in the midst of such hopelessness we find this magnificent psalm of praise and thanksgiving. The opening phrase "On that day..." is common to all prophetic literature. Like a thread running through all prophecy, it is the word that expresses the confidence of the preacher that the last word has not been spoken, that God will vindicate the just.
It is thought by some that this lesson represents a later time in the history of Israel -- possibly as late as the second century B.C. However it be judged in that regard, it is clear that this text represents another step in the development of the idea that there is resurrection, that there is life beyond death. The prophet gives thanks for those who endure and hold on to the faith. But what about all those who died in the meantime? What about those who did not surrender their faith and integrity? It is with them in mind that the prophet says, "Your dead shall live, their corpses shall rise. O dwellers in the dust, awake and sing for joy!" (v. 19).
Accompanying this ringing affirmation of life is an equally strong appeal to patience. Peace is a gift to "those of steadfast mind" (v. 3). The devout "yearn for you in the night" (v. 9). The righteous are told to "enter your chambers, and shut your doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until the wrath is past" (v. 20). The prophet is sure that God will act in God's right time.
We see this prophecy, of course, through the lens of the New Testament and the life of Christ. We should try to put ourselves in the shoes of the Isaiah. He had nothing to go on but his own faith that a just and loving God would act when the time is ripe. We are privileged. We can preach to those who mourn that God has moved into history in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Our proclamation is based not only on what God will do, but on what God has done in Christ.
1 John 3:1-3
Though we can be certain that all the resources needed for endurance are ours in Christ, it does not follow that we are already "home free." John's first letter is addressed to a church where, like the churches in Thyatira (Revelation 2:18-29) and Laodicia (Revelation 3:14-22), believers are in danger of succumbing to false teachings. The first ardor has cooled. The specific problem seems to be a question about the nature of the Christian life. Possibly influenced by the Gnostic movement, some believers seem to think they have already made it, that they have attained perfection.
The author wants these believers to remember that we live in the "not yet." "What we will be has not yet been revealed." This is what is sometimes called "honorable agnosticism." What lies ahead is so far beyond our comprehension that we can only guess at its dim outlines. It will be so much greater than anything we have known in this life that we must be content not to see it in its fullness. As in Revelation, we cling to sign and symbol. It is an idea that Paul writes of in his letters -- a "down payment" on what is to come. The final outcome lies in the realm of hope.
There are, however, several things that can be said. First, "we shall be like him." There is something here of the promise of the restoration of the imago dei that was lost in the Fall. God's purpose and destiny for the human family will be realized again in the age to come. Furthermore, "We shall see him as he is." The "vision of God" that runs as a strong thread through the great devotional writings of the mystics is not alien to the most ordinary believer. Embedded in the heart of every Christian is the longing to know God more intimately, to understand better the nature of life at its fullest, to unravel the mysteries that now surround our understanding of God. This strong promise is that the saints will one day come to that moment.
The personal and intimate nature of Christian hope shines out of this text. To call God "Father" is to risk intimacy with one who is "Wholly Other" and beyond our comprehension. Yet, that is the scandal of the Gospel -- that we can approach the unapproachable One and be confident that we are welcome.
This hope becomes the motivation for Christian living. While perfection -- even remotely -- may elude us, we are always on the way toward that goal. The life of sanctification is a call to daily discipline, constant prayer, intentional good works, and pursuit of the highest ideals. Though there is no way to measure where we are on that way -- in fact, no need to measure -- yet, God's call is for a life of godliness that can be called "the pilgrim's progress."
Revelation 21:9-11, 22-27
There was a prevalent idea in the first-century thought that everything on earth had its perfect counterpart in another realm. Christianity picked up this pattern of thinking and redefined it for the believing community. The Letter to the Hebrews develops this idea more than any other book of the New Testament. Things on earth are called "copies" or "shadows" of things in heaven.
In this text from Revelation we see this idea played out. The author takes descriptions out of an ideal setting -- the perfectly planned city -- and projects them on life to come, life in "the holy city Jerusalem." By taking the best he can think of from this world, the writer tries to help the believer to imagine what is to come.
In our day we are more inclined to associate the ideal with places of wildness, undeveloped parts of the world where humans have not spoiled the landscape. When we think of places where we can be close to God, we tend toward thoughts of places apart, places where we are not bothered by the interference of other humans.
But we should remember that cities have often been the focus for the ideal. In an age when most lived in simple, poorly-constructed homes, what a glorious sight it must have been to see the Temple at Jerusalem or the tombs of kings and pharaohs. Even today we dream of re-creating slums, of making metropolitan areas more livable, of beautification projects that will transform urban places. And some even dream of cities where good will and human kindness will prevail.
Is not a city a good image of what we hope for? Bonhoeffer suggested that one who cannot be alone cannot be in community; and one who cannot be in community cannot be alone. We are born as individuals, but into community. We die alone, but we want family and friends with us and we want to die with the hope that we will live again in community. Thus, the idea of a "holy city," though not to be understood literally, is surely a good way to think of our future on this All Saints' Sunday. Are those who die in the faith destined a life of solitude? Is it not better to think of them living on in community, living on in God's "holy city"? And what more hopeful word than this: "God himself will be with them" (21:3)?
The fact that the "holy city" is not to be taken literally is borne out in verses 22 and 23 where it is said that God will be sufficient for every need in the life to come. And where is it all centered? On the cross. It is the Lamb, the Suffering Servant of the Lord, who makes life possible in this "city of God."
Matthew 5:1-12
Many preachers dread this text -- the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Mount. And for good reason. Christian history is replete with diverse suggestions on what to do with it. Some Roman Catholics tend to see it in terms of "counsels of perfection." This is advice to sincere believers on how they can progress in the Christian walk. And, according to some streams of this tradition, the perfection called for is attainable only by those who devote themselves wholly to its pursuit -- such as monks, priests, and nuns.
Sectarians of various stripes tend to see it as a vision of a life that is attainable by all sincere believers, but only if they put their full effort to the enterprise. Having been freed from sin by faith in Christ, one is given the resources to grow toward a holy life. The notion of "sinless perfection" has crept into some of these traditions.
Others, like Lutherans, believe that all are called to the life described here, but that it is unattainable in this world. From this perspective, the words of Jesus almost take the form of law, reminding us of how far short we fall and how desperately we need to trust in God's grace alone.
Whatever approach one may choose, it is critical to recognize the setting. These words are not for the masses. Jesus has separated himself from the crowds in order to have intimate time with his chosen twelve. It is to them, believers who have moved out of their former lives and into the innermost circle, that he speaks.
The Beatitudes are divided into two parts. The first set is more personal. A disciple is one who knows poverty of spirit, sorrow, humility, and hunger for more of the life of righteousness. This one is sensitive to the winds of the Spirit, understanding that God alone can fill the deep longings of the heart. There is a call to contemplation, to reflection, to spiritual sensitivity.
The second section looks outward. Those "on the way" are also committed to a life that shows in word and deed that they are disciples. They show mercy, they seek to live above reproach, they work for peace in the world, and they are ready and willing to endure hate and persecution for the sake of truth.
Any of us who have traveled to the Holy Land understand the poignancy of this text. As we stand on the Galilean hillside we can easily conjure up an idyllic scene. Jesus is there in that peaceful setting with his chosen twelve, giving them advice and counsel on how to change the world for the better. We forget for a moment that the world of the first century was no different from the world of the late-twentieth century. There was constant turmoil. Jesus was only one of thousands who were strung up on a cross. In only a few decades Jerusalem would lie in ruins, the final act in a succession of terror and rebellion. What we see on our television screens today is only a continuation of what has been. We are no closer to the world our Lord envisioned.
But isn't that the point? The words of Jesus to his first disciples are the same for the saints who live today. The Beatitudes are meant to be lived, imperfect though the effort may be. They are practical advice for everyday living in a world of trouble and anxiety.
We must also see that every Beatitude stands in bold contrast to what is seen as the ideal in our culture: Be rich, avoid pain and sorrow, hunger and thirst for power, reach your goals regardless of the cost to others. It is not hard to find consensus regarding the ideals of what Jesus teaches. Who would not subscribe to the Beatitudes? But, as the poet has said, "We worship his teaching, but are afraid to live it."
Suggestions For Preaching
In many congregations this is a day to remember with gratitude those believers who have had great influence on us personally, on the church, and on society as a whole. It is a good day to recall in the prayers of the church those who have died in the past year.
We might also ask our listeners to take a moment to recall those saints of God who have had a singular impact on their lives -- Christian parents and grandparents, godparents, Sunday church school teachers, godly neighbors, friends, spouse, child, co-worker, and others. Why do we appreciate them? Why remember with gratitude some of those who have died? What qualities stand out? What is it about them we want to embrace in our own lives?
It will soon be apparent that many of the qualities that seem to bring most immediate success in life are those which wither and are most quickly forgotten when one dies. In contrast, it is those selfless qualities -- the accents of the Beatitudes -- that endure and leave the most long-lasting impact. In the midst of our own turmoil -- personal and societal -- and in the full confession of our own failure, we ask for grace to walk as living saints of God.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Revelation 7:9-17
Visions of heaven are notoriously suspect. Generally, they tell you much more about the one hoping than the hoped for. But John the seer has found a reliable track to follow right into the new world. It is the First Commandment, "I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods before me."
In this life, the commanding dimension of these words tends to claim a priority. God takes the field against every rival to which we might turn for help, significance or purpose apart from him. The First Commandment is a flat out attack on every form of idolatry, whether it be as blatant as a tin god or as subtle as depending too heavily on a personal relationship.
But there is promise in the First Commandment, evident in the words themselves. "I am the Lord, your God" -- not "I will be when ...," or "I hope to be if ...." It is an unqualified assertion, the word your bringing it home at a personal level, both plural and singular. This is no dispassionate, self-possessed Unmoved Mover of Greek speculation; it is the warm-blooded God of the Hebrews, moving in to claim you and those to whom you belong as possession. "I am yours; you are mine," the language of love.
In this life, the command and the promise fight it out. The same God speaks -- it is one word. But a sinner hears both indictment -- the exposure of all of the investments that have laid claim to more of the heart than appropriate -- as well as the promise of a relationship beyond condition or performance.
But there is coming a time, a new day, when the First Commandment will be promise, pure and simple. It is that time that John, stuck with himself, oppressed on Patmos, can see emerging out of the future. He can see it because he knows that the God who has said, "You shall have no other gods before me," is the God who has said and will say, "I am the Lord your God."
The sight John sees is enough to blind you with its radiance. There is a riot of color, a cacophony of language, varieties of variety, but there is one voice. It declares the promise of the First Commandment as fulfilled: "Salvation belongs to our God ... and to the Lamb." This voice is echoed by an angelic choir, crying out in prayer, praise, and thanksgiving.
Amidst this gorgeous outpouring, the saints are identified. They are the ones who have been through the troubles -- who have been lured by the false alternatives, who have been seduced by the pretenders, who have been rolled over by the powers. They are those who wondered if they had any faith left, who went down nobly or denouncing the dark but who couldn't depart -- whether in joy or abandonment -- without calling the name of the Lamb forever blessed.
And so now, in the end, God is God for them: the God he has always been and evermore shall be, stooping in redemptive majesty to soak up the smallest teardrop, your God.
