What's to become of us?
Commentary
(Myrna and Robert Kysar are the co-authors of "Charting The Course." Myrna is pastor of Christ Lutheran Church (ELCA), Oakwood, Georgia. She holds a Master of Divinity degree from Yale Divinity School and a Doctor of Ministry from Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. She is the co-author with her husband of three books.
Robert, also an ELCA pastor, is Bandy Professor of Preaching and New Testament Emeritus at Candler School of Theology and the Graduate Division of Religion of Emory University. He earned his Bachelor of Divinity from Garrett Evangelical Theological Seminary and a Ph.D. in New Testament Interpretation from Northwestern University. He has written fifteen books and over fifty articles.)
The idea of sainthood has suffered severely in recent years. Oh, you will still occasionally hear someone say, "She's a saint!" But we don't talk much about saints anymore. The whole idea of some lofty moral and spiritual status is a bit hard to imagine these days. Maybe it's because we are glad just to maintain some semblance of morality amid all the complicated problems of our time.
Actually, the New Testament uses the word saint almost as a synonym for Christian. Paul claims even the Christians at Corinth are already "sanctified" (made holy) and called to be "saints" (1 Corinthians 1:2), even though what we learn about them in this letter suggests they still had a long way to go. The word saint translates the Greek hagios, which is used of God and those things and persons who are worthy to be in God's presence. It designates a person who shares something with God. To be called to sainthood is to cherish what God cherishes, to hold and live the divine values. It is sort of like joining an organization that espouses certain principles. If we take the name of that organization as part of our identity, we are then expected to practice the values the group propagates.
The truth of the matter is, however, that we may not know who will prove themselves to be saints, to possess the character of one who is like God. One of the curious things about humans is that you never know what they are going to become. Have you ever known children about whom you asked, "I wonder what will become of them?" We are close friends with a couple whose children are suspiciously ideal! They are too good to be true -- at least for this day. We cannot resist wondering what they will be like as they approach adulthood, what they will be when they "grow up." How will they act when they go off to college and live independent of their parents? These children are surrounded with so much love in their family that you dare not imagine the full promise of what they will become. But we have also known some young people about whom we worried. Will they manage eventually to get their lives together? Will they survive the confusion of adolescence and find some significant goals for their lives? What's to become of them?
What's to become of us? By asking this simple question, we think the lessons for this All Saints' Sunday are given a slightly different twist. The question is snatched from 1 John 3, the second reading, verse 2: "What we will be has not yet been revealed." When we think about saints in terms of this statement, attention shifts from our own righteousness to what God may do with us and to us. Of course, something else follows if you view these lessons through the lenses of the question, "What are we to become?" It is the obvious but important fact that they all have to do with the final day -- the eschaton -- when God completes the divine work with humanity and all creation. That is to say, we don't know what we are to become until God is finished with us. Let's see how the lessons look when viewed through the lens of what we might become.
Revelation 7:9-17
Dipping into Revelation, as this passage does, is dangerous business. It's like happening into the middle of a game without knowing who the players are -- and even without knowing for sure what the game is. Ladling out a portion of Revelation is often what gets us into trouble with this last book of the canon. When reading Revelation, you need to know what's going on and what the author is doing. Most important, perhaps, you need to understand the language of Revelation. None of this is easy in the case of Revelation.
A helpful analogy for the language of Revelation is contemporary poetry. The language of this book is highly metaphorical. It paints word-pictures. Poetry doesn't always convey cognitive content (that is, ideas); it doesn't always communicate knowledge. Often it simply appeals to our senses with elaborate and surprising language. The word-pictures in Revelation are not always intended to make immediate sense to the reader, at least not until the whole work is digested. And even then the author's word-pictures continue to puzzle us and evoke new meaning the more we think about them. You dare not claim ever to know exactly what the Revelation to John means.
However, the book seems to have been written both to warn Christians and empower them for the tough times that are approaching. The best scholars remain uncertain about the situation of Christians in Asia Minor to which the book is addressed. Maybe they were already being persecuted for their faith. Or, maybe John of Patmos is just warning them that such persecution is likely to come. Whatever the exact situation of the first readers, John hopes to encourage them to hold fast to their faith. Above all, he wants to empower them to face suffering. Yet that message is seldom explicitly stated. Instead, the author leads us through a massive fresco of images.
John treats us to a particular kind of picture in this passage. We see a throne room -- the oval office of John's day. Gathered there are a countless number of worshipers -- "a great multitude that no one could count" (v. 9). They join in the heavenly worship. The heart of this passage, however, is in the revelation of who these people are. They are described with two phrases. They are people "who have come out of the ordeal," and they "have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb" (v. 14). They are the faithful. But what a strange picture: robes made white by washing them in blood. They are the suffering Christians, put down and slandered, all because they were committed to this Jesus of Nazareth. Yet here they are now standing before the throne of God! Who would have thought they would be here?
Yet even the faithful are not the final focus of this picture. It is the One on the throne. And the lesson concludes in verses 16-17 with what that One does for the faithful: he takes away hunger, thirst, annd heat; wipes away every tear; and guides the faithful to the water of life. The God of the saints makes right the wrongs the faithful have experienced. The God of the saints brings justice to those who have experienced injustice.
John does not always move the description of his revelation along in a simple chronological straight line. He is always pulling readers ahead of the story and then taking them back. This throne room scene lets us take a peek at the grand climax of John's vision. We are transported into chapters 21 and 22. The end is in sight. God will not allow the forces of evil to defeat the people of God, but God will finally have the last word.
A lot is tied up in that strange little word picture of robes washed white in blood. Certainly more than we are going to uncover here! Ironically Christ's suffering and the suffering of his followers result in their being clothed in garments that are fitting for the presence of God. Suffering yields justice. It is a strange way of getting to justice. But that seems to be what Revelation is all about. The path in faithfulness through the ordeal of opposition leads to a reordering of the universe. Revelation seems to suppose that the Christians' suffering for their faith contributes to God's final defeat of the forces of evil. The "lamb" is the Christians' model. In Christ God suffered an atrocious and unjust death. Christians believe that his endurance of such a fate somehow or other defeated all the forces and powers that opposed God. Now, John says, Christians augment that same divine victory through their endurance of the "ordeal." It is as if being a Christian means becoming Christ's partner in the war against evil.
Those who find themselves garbed in white robes have become something far different than they were. A bunch of ostracized, threatened, and lowly people now stands in the immediate presence of the Holy One. Who would have guessed this is what they would become? By suffering for their faith, they have become like their Lord. By standing up to opposition, they have embraced what God values. As a result look what's become of them! They stand before the sovereign throne.
1 John 3:1-3
This lesson comes from an entirely different kind of writing but fits the Revelation scene like a glove. You might say that the second lesson transports us back from the heavenly headquarters to this earthly realm. But its promise of "what we will be" points us to that throne room. It is, once again, only a morsel of a much more expansive literary piece, which may or may not best be characterized as a letter. What is clear is that the author of this writing, eventually attributed to John, is addressing a needy community. Some sort of division has occurred among them, and some have left the community. These words are targeted at those who have remained within the church. The author seeks to strengthen readers, give them confidence that they are on the right track, and provide them some hope for the future.
We recently visited with a pastor of a congregation that has suffered a schism. A small but highly vocal group had just picked up and left the church. The members who remained -- the vast majority of the congregation -- are, however, shaken by this experience. The pastor has been busy the last few weeks visiting these people, hearing them express their anxiety, and strengthening them in their confidence to remain in the congregation. As we turned to this lesson, it occurred to us that this pastor was in a situation that might be comparable to that of the author of 1 John.
The lesson is drawn from a segment of the writing which assures readers of their parentage. It deals with identity and with what we know and what we don't know. The argument moves in a kind of spiral. It turns back to repeat itself but in the process also moves forward. The spiral looks something like this: (1) Who are we? We are children of God. (2) When Christ is revealed, what is to become of the family? That is, on the occasion of Christ's glorious return, what's going to happen to us? (3) Back to the question of who we are. As children of God, the readers are encircled by the divine love. That love makes us children now! (4) What of the future? We can't know. (5) So what can we know? When Christ is revealed, the children of God will see Christ for what he really is. (6) Consequently, we "will be like him." (7) What difference does this make for our lives now? The impact of such confidence is that we attend to the quality of our lives as God's children.
The author of 1 John plays with this image: We know who we are now -- children of God -- but who knows what we will become? Yet this author ventures to claim that believers will finally see Christ for what he really is, and that seeing will make them "like him." In terms of sainthood, Christians are promised that they will possess the very features of Christ himself.
It's sort of like this: If we are exposed long enough to certain people we love, we begin to be like them. Have you ever known a couple who have been married many years and who obviously deeply care for one another? If so, you may notice that they share some of the same features. They think alike; they enjoy the same things; they sound alike; and in some extreme cases they may even begin to look alike. The Christians who are already God's family will be exposed to Christ and become like him. They will share the divine characteristics, like holiness, and hence become saints, holy ones.
Suppose that we were members of that community to which this letter was written. Imagine that we were confused and uncertain of who we are, just like they were. Then imagine what this promise would do to us. You will become like your Lord! What does it do to us now?
Matthew 5:1-12
Passages that are too familiar are hard to preach. Both the preacher and the congregation think they already know what the passage means. So, they are not likely to pay too much attention to it or to what we may say about it. It is like an old friend, whom we take for granted. We know what he or she will think about something; and we know how she or he will act in certain situations. The beatitudes are such a passage. The preacher might even yawn and think, "Oh, no! Not the beatitudes again!" After all, they were the Gospel lesson for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany. And here they are again.
A few tidbits which may help us begin to refocus this old familiar passage in a fresh way: First, remember that they are the opening section of the Sermon on the Mount. They constitute the foundation for that whole long section of teaching material Matthew has between 5:1 and 7:27. As it is conceived in the Sermon on the Mount, the whole of Christian morality seems planted in this passage. The Christian lifestyle takes root in what God promises to do for several groups of people who do not -
- by any stretch of the imagination -- seem to be "blessed."
Second, be honest and face the eschatological quality of these promises. Note the future tense used through verses 4-9, namely, the verb "will be." These sayings describe the radical transformation God will bring to humans in the last day. Eventually, God will bless precisely the people who seem the most unblessed in this world and most certainly are not regarded blessed by societal standards.
But, third, after noticing the future tense in verses 4-9, please recognize the present tense used to introduce (v. 3) and to conclude the beatitudes (v. 10). The promise for the future is grounded in what already is: The "poor in spirit" and "those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake" already have the kingdom of heaven. We are reminded of the second lesson in which the readers are already children of God but promised that they will become like Christ.
Finally, acknowledge that what we are facing in this familiar passage are God's own values. These are the things that God holds to be most worthy. They are what God cherishes: poverty of the spirit, comfort for the mourners, meekness, the desire for righteousness, mercy, purity, and peacemaking. In the last decade, we have heard a lot about "family values" and the restoration of those values once held dear in our society. Well, here are God's values, not just for one time and place in history, but for all time.
Having recognized all of this about the passage, we are ready to see that it promises a surprising and radical reversal of situation and condition. Mourners comforted; peace-makers given peace; the merciful given mercy, and so on. This is how the passage has something to do with what we are to become. Who would have guessed it? The meek inheriting the earth? Why, we hardly know they are there, much less that they are heirs of the whole thing! Who would have guessed it? We admire those few who work so hard for peace, but we never supposed that peace itself was found in peace-making!
What's to become of us? One way through these passages is to ask that question. That perspective shifts attention to what God will do in our lives. Sainthood really does not have to do with what we humans do or accomplish. It is not a matter of our achieving a certain level of piety and morality. Each lesson in its own way speaks of how God will eventually turn things around in society. In this case, then, the saints are those upon whom God pours grace in the final days. God makes them like God's own self. The lessons and All Saints' Sunday have less to do with how righteous we are and much more to do with God's own righteousness. The lessons and this special day have most to do with a divine promise. God pledges that in the end Christians will become like Christ. To be sure, the theme of reward runs through the lessons. However, perhaps what is more important is the God who provides the reward. Yes, the lessons are about believers who remain faithful, but they are more about God's faithfulness to the believers.
You have seen that bumper sticker: "Be patient with me. God isn't finished with me yet." Who we are to become depends on who God already is and will always be.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
(Dr. Elizabeth Achtemeier, an ordained Presbyterian minister and Adjunct Professor of Bible and Homiletics at Union Theological Seminary, is known throughout the United States and Canada as a preacher, lecturer, and writer. She is the author of twenty books and frequently contributes to church publications.)
Revelation 7:9-17
Our text for the morning brings three burning questions about human existence into focus for us. First, is there any justice in the eternal scheme of things? That is, is there any reward for those who have lived a good and faithful life with God on this earth? Certainly those who try to live righteous, obedient, trusting lives do not thereby escape the sufferings that come upon other human beings. The good man is as likely to die of cancer as the evil man. The faithful woman can experience as many burdens and troubles as the unfaithful. And both good and bad end up in the darkness of the grave. So is there any advantage in trying to walk faithfully in the way with our God?
Second, does the evil we see in our society all around us have the last word? Will the violence, the bloodshed, the hatreds, the turmoils of human communities always persist in human life, until we finally destroy ourselves and our environment? Or is there a better destiny for the human race?
And third, what has happened to those beloved Christian friends so dear to our hearts who have died and whose passing has left us with sorrow and yearning for their kindly presence? Our text for this All Saints' Sunday gives us at least some hints of the answers.
The picture here in the Book of Revelation comes to us from a vision that a Christian named John was given at the end of the first century A.D., after he had been banished to the small island of Patmos in the Aegean Sea, off the western coast of Asia Minor. John, who was a different John from the author of the fourth gospel, wrote Revelation to encourage Christians in seven churches in Asia Minor to remain faithful to Christ, despite the fact that they faced persecution by Roman authorities under the rule of the Emperor Domitian (A.D. 81-96).
Our particular text envisions the throne room of Almighty God at the end of human history, and it does so in highly mysterious and sometimes bizarre language, suitable to such an unearthly vision. After all, it is very difficult to talk of heavenly things in earthly language. But present beside the throne of God is Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, who has opened a scroll of final judgments that the Lord God is about to loose on those who have opposed his rule.
Standing before the throne are 144,000 faithful Jewish Christians, 12,000 from each of the twelve tribes of Israel, who have followed Christ (vv. 4-8). And with them is a great multitude from every nation on earth, clad in white robes, with palm branches in their hands. Elders, that is, leaders of the Jewish Christians, inquire who the white-robed persons are, to which is replied, "These are they who have come out of the great tribulation" (vv. 13-14). That is, the multitude of persons is made up of those who have been persecuted for their faith, but who have remained steadfast and faithful through all of their trials, and who now are standing before the throne of God in heaven, making up a great multitude who praise the Lord.
Well, do you wonder what has become of the faithful Christians whom you have known during your lifetime -- steady souls who have never wavered in their trust in Jesus Christ? They now stand in heaven before the throne of God, this vision tells us. And they enjoy a wondrous existence. They no longer suffer any want: they hunger and thirst no more, nor suffer any bodily discomfort. They know no more sorrow. God shelters them with his presence, and Christ guides them like a shepherd, refreshing them with the waters of eternal life, and their eternal joy is to serve their God and to be with him forever (vv. 15-17).
Is there any better outcome for faithful living, good Christians, than that which this vision presents us, any greater reward, any more desired goal? All our lives as Christians, all our worship, all our service has been directed toward achieving fellowship and a daily communion with God through Jesus Christ. We have sought after that in every prayer, every Bible study, every Christian action. And here, at the end, says John, is the fulfillment -- eternal life with God, who is only good and merciful and loving. Can you imagine knowing God face to face and living in the fullness of his love? That is almost incomprehensible to us, and yet, says our text, that is the wondrous outcome.
As for the evil and wrong that we see daily in our society and that we read about in every morning headline: No, no, says our text. They do not have the last word, for God is in fact going to bring his kingdom on earth even as it is in heaven. The kingdoms of this earth will indeed become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ. There is a final judgment coming, writes John, a final justice, a final balancing of the good and of the evil. And God will do away with all his enemies and forever banish Satan and all who have opposed God's lordly rule. Earth will be fair again, and God will be able to look at his whole creation and say once again, as he said at the beginning, "Behold, it is very good" (cf. Genesis 1:31).
But that brings us up short, doesn't it? Because we know that we too have not always been faithful Christians. We too have not always trusted God. We too have not followed our Lord Christ every day. Can we then expect to survive in this last terrible judgment that Revelation portrays for us?
John gives us one sentence to assure us. Those white-robed marytrs in the multitude of which he writes have "washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb" (v. 14) -- a familiar saying and yet somewhat bizarre for us. But what it means is that through our trust in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we have been forgiven and counted righteous in the eyes of God. We are a forgiven company, good Christians, when we trust in Christ's work. We are made members of a justified multitude when we confess our sins and place our lives in the merciful hands of our Lord. And because of the love and forgiveness that God has poured out on us through his Son, we can be members of that faithful company of saints who have eternal life in the company of our God.
Surely our response to such merciful love can only be that which we find in the hymns that are recorded in our text: "Salvation belongs to our God who sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb" (v. 10). "Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God for ever and ever! Amen" (v. 12).
Robert, also an ELCA pastor, is Bandy Professor of Preaching and New Testament Emeritus at Candler School of Theology and the Graduate Division of Religion of Emory University. He earned his Bachelor of Divinity from Garrett Evangelical Theological Seminary and a Ph.D. in New Testament Interpretation from Northwestern University. He has written fifteen books and over fifty articles.)
The idea of sainthood has suffered severely in recent years. Oh, you will still occasionally hear someone say, "She's a saint!" But we don't talk much about saints anymore. The whole idea of some lofty moral and spiritual status is a bit hard to imagine these days. Maybe it's because we are glad just to maintain some semblance of morality amid all the complicated problems of our time.
Actually, the New Testament uses the word saint almost as a synonym for Christian. Paul claims even the Christians at Corinth are already "sanctified" (made holy) and called to be "saints" (1 Corinthians 1:2), even though what we learn about them in this letter suggests they still had a long way to go. The word saint translates the Greek hagios, which is used of God and those things and persons who are worthy to be in God's presence. It designates a person who shares something with God. To be called to sainthood is to cherish what God cherishes, to hold and live the divine values. It is sort of like joining an organization that espouses certain principles. If we take the name of that organization as part of our identity, we are then expected to practice the values the group propagates.
The truth of the matter is, however, that we may not know who will prove themselves to be saints, to possess the character of one who is like God. One of the curious things about humans is that you never know what they are going to become. Have you ever known children about whom you asked, "I wonder what will become of them?" We are close friends with a couple whose children are suspiciously ideal! They are too good to be true -- at least for this day. We cannot resist wondering what they will be like as they approach adulthood, what they will be when they "grow up." How will they act when they go off to college and live independent of their parents? These children are surrounded with so much love in their family that you dare not imagine the full promise of what they will become. But we have also known some young people about whom we worried. Will they manage eventually to get their lives together? Will they survive the confusion of adolescence and find some significant goals for their lives? What's to become of them?
What's to become of us? By asking this simple question, we think the lessons for this All Saints' Sunday are given a slightly different twist. The question is snatched from 1 John 3, the second reading, verse 2: "What we will be has not yet been revealed." When we think about saints in terms of this statement, attention shifts from our own righteousness to what God may do with us and to us. Of course, something else follows if you view these lessons through the lenses of the question, "What are we to become?" It is the obvious but important fact that they all have to do with the final day -- the eschaton -- when God completes the divine work with humanity and all creation. That is to say, we don't know what we are to become until God is finished with us. Let's see how the lessons look when viewed through the lens of what we might become.
Revelation 7:9-17
Dipping into Revelation, as this passage does, is dangerous business. It's like happening into the middle of a game without knowing who the players are -- and even without knowing for sure what the game is. Ladling out a portion of Revelation is often what gets us into trouble with this last book of the canon. When reading Revelation, you need to know what's going on and what the author is doing. Most important, perhaps, you need to understand the language of Revelation. None of this is easy in the case of Revelation.
A helpful analogy for the language of Revelation is contemporary poetry. The language of this book is highly metaphorical. It paints word-pictures. Poetry doesn't always convey cognitive content (that is, ideas); it doesn't always communicate knowledge. Often it simply appeals to our senses with elaborate and surprising language. The word-pictures in Revelation are not always intended to make immediate sense to the reader, at least not until the whole work is digested. And even then the author's word-pictures continue to puzzle us and evoke new meaning the more we think about them. You dare not claim ever to know exactly what the Revelation to John means.
However, the book seems to have been written both to warn Christians and empower them for the tough times that are approaching. The best scholars remain uncertain about the situation of Christians in Asia Minor to which the book is addressed. Maybe they were already being persecuted for their faith. Or, maybe John of Patmos is just warning them that such persecution is likely to come. Whatever the exact situation of the first readers, John hopes to encourage them to hold fast to their faith. Above all, he wants to empower them to face suffering. Yet that message is seldom explicitly stated. Instead, the author leads us through a massive fresco of images.
John treats us to a particular kind of picture in this passage. We see a throne room -- the oval office of John's day. Gathered there are a countless number of worshipers -- "a great multitude that no one could count" (v. 9). They join in the heavenly worship. The heart of this passage, however, is in the revelation of who these people are. They are described with two phrases. They are people "who have come out of the ordeal," and they "have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb" (v. 14). They are the faithful. But what a strange picture: robes made white by washing them in blood. They are the suffering Christians, put down and slandered, all because they were committed to this Jesus of Nazareth. Yet here they are now standing before the throne of God! Who would have thought they would be here?
Yet even the faithful are not the final focus of this picture. It is the One on the throne. And the lesson concludes in verses 16-17 with what that One does for the faithful: he takes away hunger, thirst, annd heat; wipes away every tear; and guides the faithful to the water of life. The God of the saints makes right the wrongs the faithful have experienced. The God of the saints brings justice to those who have experienced injustice.
John does not always move the description of his revelation along in a simple chronological straight line. He is always pulling readers ahead of the story and then taking them back. This throne room scene lets us take a peek at the grand climax of John's vision. We are transported into chapters 21 and 22. The end is in sight. God will not allow the forces of evil to defeat the people of God, but God will finally have the last word.
A lot is tied up in that strange little word picture of robes washed white in blood. Certainly more than we are going to uncover here! Ironically Christ's suffering and the suffering of his followers result in their being clothed in garments that are fitting for the presence of God. Suffering yields justice. It is a strange way of getting to justice. But that seems to be what Revelation is all about. The path in faithfulness through the ordeal of opposition leads to a reordering of the universe. Revelation seems to suppose that the Christians' suffering for their faith contributes to God's final defeat of the forces of evil. The "lamb" is the Christians' model. In Christ God suffered an atrocious and unjust death. Christians believe that his endurance of such a fate somehow or other defeated all the forces and powers that opposed God. Now, John says, Christians augment that same divine victory through their endurance of the "ordeal." It is as if being a Christian means becoming Christ's partner in the war against evil.
Those who find themselves garbed in white robes have become something far different than they were. A bunch of ostracized, threatened, and lowly people now stands in the immediate presence of the Holy One. Who would have guessed this is what they would become? By suffering for their faith, they have become like their Lord. By standing up to opposition, they have embraced what God values. As a result look what's become of them! They stand before the sovereign throne.
1 John 3:1-3
This lesson comes from an entirely different kind of writing but fits the Revelation scene like a glove. You might say that the second lesson transports us back from the heavenly headquarters to this earthly realm. But its promise of "what we will be" points us to that throne room. It is, once again, only a morsel of a much more expansive literary piece, which may or may not best be characterized as a letter. What is clear is that the author of this writing, eventually attributed to John, is addressing a needy community. Some sort of division has occurred among them, and some have left the community. These words are targeted at those who have remained within the church. The author seeks to strengthen readers, give them confidence that they are on the right track, and provide them some hope for the future.
We recently visited with a pastor of a congregation that has suffered a schism. A small but highly vocal group had just picked up and left the church. The members who remained -- the vast majority of the congregation -- are, however, shaken by this experience. The pastor has been busy the last few weeks visiting these people, hearing them express their anxiety, and strengthening them in their confidence to remain in the congregation. As we turned to this lesson, it occurred to us that this pastor was in a situation that might be comparable to that of the author of 1 John.
The lesson is drawn from a segment of the writing which assures readers of their parentage. It deals with identity and with what we know and what we don't know. The argument moves in a kind of spiral. It turns back to repeat itself but in the process also moves forward. The spiral looks something like this: (1) Who are we? We are children of God. (2) When Christ is revealed, what is to become of the family? That is, on the occasion of Christ's glorious return, what's going to happen to us? (3) Back to the question of who we are. As children of God, the readers are encircled by the divine love. That love makes us children now! (4) What of the future? We can't know. (5) So what can we know? When Christ is revealed, the children of God will see Christ for what he really is. (6) Consequently, we "will be like him." (7) What difference does this make for our lives now? The impact of such confidence is that we attend to the quality of our lives as God's children.
The author of 1 John plays with this image: We know who we are now -- children of God -- but who knows what we will become? Yet this author ventures to claim that believers will finally see Christ for what he really is, and that seeing will make them "like him." In terms of sainthood, Christians are promised that they will possess the very features of Christ himself.
It's sort of like this: If we are exposed long enough to certain people we love, we begin to be like them. Have you ever known a couple who have been married many years and who obviously deeply care for one another? If so, you may notice that they share some of the same features. They think alike; they enjoy the same things; they sound alike; and in some extreme cases they may even begin to look alike. The Christians who are already God's family will be exposed to Christ and become like him. They will share the divine characteristics, like holiness, and hence become saints, holy ones.
Suppose that we were members of that community to which this letter was written. Imagine that we were confused and uncertain of who we are, just like they were. Then imagine what this promise would do to us. You will become like your Lord! What does it do to us now?
Matthew 5:1-12
Passages that are too familiar are hard to preach. Both the preacher and the congregation think they already know what the passage means. So, they are not likely to pay too much attention to it or to what we may say about it. It is like an old friend, whom we take for granted. We know what he or she will think about something; and we know how she or he will act in certain situations. The beatitudes are such a passage. The preacher might even yawn and think, "Oh, no! Not the beatitudes again!" After all, they were the Gospel lesson for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany. And here they are again.
A few tidbits which may help us begin to refocus this old familiar passage in a fresh way: First, remember that they are the opening section of the Sermon on the Mount. They constitute the foundation for that whole long section of teaching material Matthew has between 5:1 and 7:27. As it is conceived in the Sermon on the Mount, the whole of Christian morality seems planted in this passage. The Christian lifestyle takes root in what God promises to do for several groups of people who do not -
- by any stretch of the imagination -- seem to be "blessed."
Second, be honest and face the eschatological quality of these promises. Note the future tense used through verses 4-9, namely, the verb "will be." These sayings describe the radical transformation God will bring to humans in the last day. Eventually, God will bless precisely the people who seem the most unblessed in this world and most certainly are not regarded blessed by societal standards.
But, third, after noticing the future tense in verses 4-9, please recognize the present tense used to introduce (v. 3) and to conclude the beatitudes (v. 10). The promise for the future is grounded in what already is: The "poor in spirit" and "those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake" already have the kingdom of heaven. We are reminded of the second lesson in which the readers are already children of God but promised that they will become like Christ.
Finally, acknowledge that what we are facing in this familiar passage are God's own values. These are the things that God holds to be most worthy. They are what God cherishes: poverty of the spirit, comfort for the mourners, meekness, the desire for righteousness, mercy, purity, and peacemaking. In the last decade, we have heard a lot about "family values" and the restoration of those values once held dear in our society. Well, here are God's values, not just for one time and place in history, but for all time.
Having recognized all of this about the passage, we are ready to see that it promises a surprising and radical reversal of situation and condition. Mourners comforted; peace-makers given peace; the merciful given mercy, and so on. This is how the passage has something to do with what we are to become. Who would have guessed it? The meek inheriting the earth? Why, we hardly know they are there, much less that they are heirs of the whole thing! Who would have guessed it? We admire those few who work so hard for peace, but we never supposed that peace itself was found in peace-making!
What's to become of us? One way through these passages is to ask that question. That perspective shifts attention to what God will do in our lives. Sainthood really does not have to do with what we humans do or accomplish. It is not a matter of our achieving a certain level of piety and morality. Each lesson in its own way speaks of how God will eventually turn things around in society. In this case, then, the saints are those upon whom God pours grace in the final days. God makes them like God's own self. The lessons and All Saints' Sunday have less to do with how righteous we are and much more to do with God's own righteousness. The lessons and this special day have most to do with a divine promise. God pledges that in the end Christians will become like Christ. To be sure, the theme of reward runs through the lessons. However, perhaps what is more important is the God who provides the reward. Yes, the lessons are about believers who remain faithful, but they are more about God's faithfulness to the believers.
You have seen that bumper sticker: "Be patient with me. God isn't finished with me yet." Who we are to become depends on who God already is and will always be.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
(Dr. Elizabeth Achtemeier, an ordained Presbyterian minister and Adjunct Professor of Bible and Homiletics at Union Theological Seminary, is known throughout the United States and Canada as a preacher, lecturer, and writer. She is the author of twenty books and frequently contributes to church publications.)
Revelation 7:9-17
Our text for the morning brings three burning questions about human existence into focus for us. First, is there any justice in the eternal scheme of things? That is, is there any reward for those who have lived a good and faithful life with God on this earth? Certainly those who try to live righteous, obedient, trusting lives do not thereby escape the sufferings that come upon other human beings. The good man is as likely to die of cancer as the evil man. The faithful woman can experience as many burdens and troubles as the unfaithful. And both good and bad end up in the darkness of the grave. So is there any advantage in trying to walk faithfully in the way with our God?
Second, does the evil we see in our society all around us have the last word? Will the violence, the bloodshed, the hatreds, the turmoils of human communities always persist in human life, until we finally destroy ourselves and our environment? Or is there a better destiny for the human race?
And third, what has happened to those beloved Christian friends so dear to our hearts who have died and whose passing has left us with sorrow and yearning for their kindly presence? Our text for this All Saints' Sunday gives us at least some hints of the answers.
The picture here in the Book of Revelation comes to us from a vision that a Christian named John was given at the end of the first century A.D., after he had been banished to the small island of Patmos in the Aegean Sea, off the western coast of Asia Minor. John, who was a different John from the author of the fourth gospel, wrote Revelation to encourage Christians in seven churches in Asia Minor to remain faithful to Christ, despite the fact that they faced persecution by Roman authorities under the rule of the Emperor Domitian (A.D. 81-96).
Our particular text envisions the throne room of Almighty God at the end of human history, and it does so in highly mysterious and sometimes bizarre language, suitable to such an unearthly vision. After all, it is very difficult to talk of heavenly things in earthly language. But present beside the throne of God is Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, who has opened a scroll of final judgments that the Lord God is about to loose on those who have opposed his rule.
Standing before the throne are 144,000 faithful Jewish Christians, 12,000 from each of the twelve tribes of Israel, who have followed Christ (vv. 4-8). And with them is a great multitude from every nation on earth, clad in white robes, with palm branches in their hands. Elders, that is, leaders of the Jewish Christians, inquire who the white-robed persons are, to which is replied, "These are they who have come out of the great tribulation" (vv. 13-14). That is, the multitude of persons is made up of those who have been persecuted for their faith, but who have remained steadfast and faithful through all of their trials, and who now are standing before the throne of God in heaven, making up a great multitude who praise the Lord.
Well, do you wonder what has become of the faithful Christians whom you have known during your lifetime -- steady souls who have never wavered in their trust in Jesus Christ? They now stand in heaven before the throne of God, this vision tells us. And they enjoy a wondrous existence. They no longer suffer any want: they hunger and thirst no more, nor suffer any bodily discomfort. They know no more sorrow. God shelters them with his presence, and Christ guides them like a shepherd, refreshing them with the waters of eternal life, and their eternal joy is to serve their God and to be with him forever (vv. 15-17).
Is there any better outcome for faithful living, good Christians, than that which this vision presents us, any greater reward, any more desired goal? All our lives as Christians, all our worship, all our service has been directed toward achieving fellowship and a daily communion with God through Jesus Christ. We have sought after that in every prayer, every Bible study, every Christian action. And here, at the end, says John, is the fulfillment -- eternal life with God, who is only good and merciful and loving. Can you imagine knowing God face to face and living in the fullness of his love? That is almost incomprehensible to us, and yet, says our text, that is the wondrous outcome.
As for the evil and wrong that we see daily in our society and that we read about in every morning headline: No, no, says our text. They do not have the last word, for God is in fact going to bring his kingdom on earth even as it is in heaven. The kingdoms of this earth will indeed become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ. There is a final judgment coming, writes John, a final justice, a final balancing of the good and of the evil. And God will do away with all his enemies and forever banish Satan and all who have opposed God's lordly rule. Earth will be fair again, and God will be able to look at his whole creation and say once again, as he said at the beginning, "Behold, it is very good" (cf. Genesis 1:31).
But that brings us up short, doesn't it? Because we know that we too have not always been faithful Christians. We too have not always trusted God. We too have not followed our Lord Christ every day. Can we then expect to survive in this last terrible judgment that Revelation portrays for us?
John gives us one sentence to assure us. Those white-robed marytrs in the multitude of which he writes have "washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb" (v. 14) -- a familiar saying and yet somewhat bizarre for us. But what it means is that through our trust in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we have been forgiven and counted righteous in the eyes of God. We are a forgiven company, good Christians, when we trust in Christ's work. We are made members of a justified multitude when we confess our sins and place our lives in the merciful hands of our Lord. And because of the love and forgiveness that God has poured out on us through his Son, we can be members of that faithful company of saints who have eternal life in the company of our God.
Surely our response to such merciful love can only be that which we find in the hymns that are recorded in our text: "Salvation belongs to our God who sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb" (v. 10). "Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God for ever and ever! Amen" (v. 12).
