Does it all ever just
seem... old? Worn out, overplayed, exhausting? All the poverty.
All the lack. All the sorrow. All the sickness. All the violence.
All the confusion. All the woe and the chaos and the pain and the
grief. All of the loss. Doesn't even the world seem run down
sometimes? For we know that it's written: “Of old you laid the
foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands.
They will perish..., they will all wear out like a garment; you'll
change them like a robe, and they will pass away”
(Psalm 102:25-26). “Heaven and earth will pass away”
(Mark 13:31). “The heavens vanish like smoke, the earth
will wear out like a garment, and they who dwell in it will die in
like manner” (Isaiah 51:6).
Paul was right – your “outer self is wasting away,”
and so is mine (2 Corinthians 4:16). Nothing holds up over time.
Things wear out. Even the skies above and the earth below. Things
crumble and fade. They slip from our grip. What have we lost?
The
realities of loss and impermanence were no less a problem for John
and the first readers of this Revelation, this book of unveiling.
We've been journeying through it together since the close of April,
and I'd like to take a few minutes to look back and see where the
trip's taken us. After a richly theological introduction, we
promptly were awestruck with a vision of the risen Jesus Christ as
the Living One, the Everlasting Man, in the splendor of his glory.
It reminds us that this isn't meant to be a book of fear, or a book
of perplexity, or a book of history written in advance. It's a book
of Jesus. It's about Jesus from beginning to end. It's meant to
redirect the seven churches, and every church since, to a vision of
Jesus.
Within
this book of Jesus, we explored the chief cast of characters. We
found two opposing 'teams,' if you will – the reality and the
parody. And each team comes with a trinity, a crowd, and a
city-lady. Revelation reveals God, the 'Enthroned One,' and shows
his greatness over against his parody, the devilish Dragon. We meet
Jesus as the Lamb, who expresses power through self-sacrifice, over
against the Beast, brutal earthly power. With God and the Lamb is a
sevenfold Spirit, the Holy Spirit, who inspires witnesses to the
truth, unlike his parody, the False Prophet, a beast which deceives
with propaganda. God, the Lamb, and the sevenfold Spirit receive
worship from a crowd of holy Lamb-followers, who bear a divine seal,
whereas the earth-dwellers, those who serve earthly powers, are
branded with a beastly mark as a sign of who and what they ultimately
worship. And the Lamb-followers are waiting for the revelation of
the Bride-City, the New Jerusalem, a purified civilization and
culture; whereas the earth-dwellers and their rulers are living it up
with her parody, the Harlot-City of Babylon, a corrupted civilization
and culture that's doomed to destruction. The latter realities are
only parodies from below. Through these visions, John encourages us
to pick a side. He wants us to see that everybody worships, and
Revelation is a call to choose and then live accordingly. But to do
that is to recognize the worship basis of everyday life, beneath
which John sees a Babylonian beastliness lurk.
To
gain clarity, John invites us to pivot our gaze for a while from this
world to heaven, because in no other way can we see things rightly
than from above. In heaven, we glimpse the beauties of heavenly
worship, which unmasks all the drama of earthly empire as a cheap
farce. We meet the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders
and the myriads of angels, and we behold the ascension of the Lamb,
slain but somehow standing again – crucified yet risen. And Jesus
the Lamb is the only one found worthy to open the scroll and fulfill
God's secret plans for the universe. Through Jesus, we found
ourselves drawn into the drama of heavenly worship, seeing our
prayers offered up as incense and cast down to earth as flame,
hearing the new songs that Jesus' glory inspires, watching the dream
of worship sweep up all things in the universe into a single unified
praise. And we remembered that, outnumbered through we may feel, we
stand in the cosmic majority.
We
were reassured that, though our gravest fears may gallop like armed
horsemen through the world, yet their havoc is only moving the Lamb's
plan forward in ways we can't yet fathom. Then we glimpsed the
martyrs under God's altar, their lives and deaths as a holy
sacrifice; we heard their plaintive cries for justice and watched
them receive rest, and we learned that our lives, offered up to God
in witness, are his measure of earthly time, the way he counts down
to the end. Then we caught visions of the church – on the one
hand, looking like an elite Israelite army, and on the other hand,
unveiled as a countless multi-ethnic crowd. We heard the story of
salvation told and retold as our exodus through the troubled waters
of the worldly seas, and we witnessed scenes of immense glory as we
edged closer and closer to the final unfolding, as God's presence
began to be displayed to our view, and then heard the sounding of the
seventh trumpet, the last trumpet.
From
that, we jerked ourselves back, taking a pause, holding off from last
things so that we could now go and retread the seven letters Jesus
dictated to the seven Asian churches – churches with their
strengths and flaws, churches full of people not so different from
you and me. We walked their streets, breathed their air, got to know
them, understand them, searched for our own strengths and weaknesses
in the mirrors of their faces, as Jesus encouraged them, challenged
them. We met the church at Ephesus, theologically pure but lacking
in love. We met the church at Smyrna, virtuous but beaten down by
persecution. We met the church at Pergamum, compromised by false
teachers who corrupt the gospel with unhealthy beliefs. We met the
church at Thyatira, undergoing revival except that they're tolerant
of a false teacher who seduces some to immoral excess. We met the
church at Sardis, alive in name only, on the brink of extinction
unless they catch revival. We met the church at Philadelphia,
pressing on faithfully but discouraged by opposition and exclusion.
And then we met the church of Laodicea, assimilated to the culture,
neutered by self-sufficiency and luxury – but Jesus will bless the
people even there, if only they'll let him in where he belongs. And
amidst these seven churches, we can find all that's right and all
that's wrong with ourselves – our lives, our church, we hear the
voice of Jesus over.
Having
taken stock of ourselves in the present, we took a deep breath and
went back to the sound of that last trumpet. We knew it would change
everything. After all, Paul had written that “the last
trumpet... will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and
we shall be changed” (1
Corinthians 15:52) – “the Lord himself will descend...
with the sound of the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will
rise first..., and so we will always be with the Lord”
(1 Thessalonians 4:16-17). And so, leaping forward to the sounding
of the seventh and final trumpet, we then heard the call telling us
that the “marriage supper of the Lamb”
was ready – the union of Bridegroom and Bride, Christ and his
Church, for an eternal feast. We then caught sight of the Second
Coming, as Jesus rides in as our Warrior, taking up our fight and
overcoming evil. And we stood still, sobered, at the Great White
Throne, watching the skies roll up and the earth crumble before God's
presence to judge.
And
that's where we left off last week, as we delve into what lies ahead.
But now our journey has taken us past the Final Judgment, and today
we enter upon the grand finale, the elevation, the consummation, the
glory! It's all up, up, up from here! And when the Last Judgment is
done, John can't help but remind us of what God said through the
prophet Isaiah once: “Remember not the former things, nor
consider the things of old – look, I'm doing a new thing! Now it
springs forth – don't you perceive it? I'll make a way in the
wilderness and rivers in the desert!”
(Isaiah 43:18-19). And John himself hears the same voice that spoke
to Isaiah. And the voice of God the Father cries out where John can
hear it: “Behold, I am making all things new”
(Revelation 21:5)!
All
things new! Can you believe it? Not a thing will stay as it was.
Not a thing as it now is will go unchanged, unrefreshed. Everything
may be wearing down now, but it will be renewed and restored – not
just restored, but transformed, brought to what it was always meant
to be. Everything will take on a sacred unfamiliarity. And it will
begin with us. Because the first thing that needs to be done is our
resurrection. We touched on it somewhat last week. What will it be
like to be raised from the dead? To come alive again, and be
entirely new? It's worth thinking about, because that will literally
happen to each one of us. We're all liable to die, but not a one of
us is going to stay buried, not one of us will be abandoned to dust
and ashes for good. What will our bodies be like? John doesn't get
into it, but Paul tells us that they'll be “raised
imperishable” (1 Corinthians
15:42), “raised in glory,” “raised in power”
(1 Corinthians 15:43). They won't be able to fall apart, they'll be
glorious and strong and profound. Paul tells us that they'll be
“Spirit-driven bodies”
(1 Corinthians 15:44). Right now, what moves you, what fuels you,
what powers your body is just your own soul, your natural self. But
when your body gets made new, it will have a new power source: the
infinite Spirit of God! Out with the AAA batteries, in with the
nuclear reactor! You cannot begin to imagine the energy that will
fuel you and govern and direct your living. And as we see how that
plays out in the only example of a resurrected body, we find it can
integrate the matter we know – after all, Jesus eats ordinary fish
that the disciples cook, though we suspect he doesn't need to eat,
yet he can (Luke 24:42-43). Jesus' risen body doesn't play by our
familiar rules, as he proves when he just appears inside locked rooms
(John 20:26). Power and glory indeed! And that's what our bodies
are going to be.
But
our bodies aren't the only thing that will be resurrected. Paul
tells us that the entire creation is groaning and hoping to be “set
free” by sharing “the
freedom of the glory of the children of God”
(Romans 8:21). The whole universe wants to ride our coattails into
liberation, into resurrection. And so it will. Because didn't
Isaiah hear: “Behold, I create new heavens and a new
earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind
– but be glad and rejoice forever in that which I create”
(Isaiah 65:17-18)? And just so, that's what John sees: “I
saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first
earth had passed away, and the sea was no more”
(Revelation 21:1).
The
skies above, as they now are, are chained down in corruption. We
read rightly in the book of Job that “the heavens are not
pure in [God's] sight” (Job
15:15). But that won't always be the case. When we get our liberty,
so do the skies above. Having passed away, slain by God's presence,
they'll be resurrected as new skies, fresh and vivid, marvelous in
their beauty. What might it look like for Mars to become a new Mars,
perhaps a more flourishing and more hospitable Mars? What will it be
like for Pluto to be raised to new life? What could it mean for the
Andromeda Galaxy to be newly transfigured with the glory of the Lord
God Almighty? We can scarcely dream it. Not only that, but the soil
under our feet will be new soil. The earth, too, will be
resurrected, set free of all the pollution and the sin and the
damage. It won't be the familiar earth of affliction. It will be a
risen world of risen forests and risen fields, risen hills and risen
valleys, risen atmosphere and risen oceans. John describes it as
being without a 'sea' simply as a symbol, because the turbulent sea
was the thing God had to clear aside for the exodus, and the sea is
the thing separating him from his beloved churches. But in this
risen earth, we'll find again a hundred times all we now lay aside
for Jesus' sake (Matthew 19:29). What will this new earth be like?
What transfigured laws of physics will it operate under? What smell
will a risen rose release, what texture will resurrected blades of
grass present to the soles of our feet as we run? What awaits us is
surely mysterious, perhaps, but not vague and certainly not dull.
Still,
“no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man
imagined what God has prepared for those who love him”
(1 Corinthians 2:9). Our wildest dreams are incapable of guessing
positively most of what will be true about the new heavens and the
new earth. That's why John describes it chiefly in negative terms –
by what won't
be there, by what will be missing. And one of the most important
things to go missing will be death. The prophet Isaiah had already
heard that God “will
swallow up death forever”
(Isaiah 25:8). And now John learns it for himself: “Death
shall be no more”
(Revelation 21:4). Imagine it – not only will we be raised to new
life, but it will be a life that can't
be lost, that can't
be taken away! No more separation, no more worrying, no more needing
to dwell on our mortality – because we'll have put on immortality!
Maybe you remember the opening and closing lines of the sonnet
written in 1609 by John Donne:
Death,
be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty
and dreadful, for thou are not so....
One
short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And
death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Death
shall die! And what will life look like for us once it does? What
will life be, without death haunting it, without death looming over
everything? Without fear of an ending, without the bittersweet
injection of parting, without the suspicion that anything will be our
last this or our last that – how much more able will we be to live
in the moment and savor each second to the fullest? Having been
through a mortal life now, we'll appreciate each moment as a gift,
and yet never more have to worry about being deprived of that gift.
Our zest for life will only grow. The perfection of life will be new
life.
So,
too, the perfection of joy will be new joy. The prophet Isaiah
called out to God to “awake
as in days of old … Wasn't it you who dried up the sea, the waters
of the great deep, who made the depths of the sea a way for the
redeemed to pass over? And the ransomed of the LORD
shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be
upon their heads; they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and
sighing shall flee away”
(Isaiah 51:9-11). Sorrow and sighing must flee away if gladness and
joy are to be everlasting. And that is what John hears will happen.
“Neither shall
there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former
things have passed away.”
And how will those things be made to disappear? Because God
himself, personally, “will
wipe away every tear from their eyes”
(Revelation 21:4).
Think
of everything that vexes you inwardly now. All your inner struggles.
Your fear. Your doubt. Your times of confusion. Your vices and
temptations. All your griefs. All your sense of loss. All your
frustrations. They will be made to go away. Right now, each of us
carries some kind of brokenness inside. We've been hurt. We wear
the scars. We bear the burdens. We may not even be able to
recognize that heaviness, because it settles so into the background
of our every moment that we forget the weight is even there. We just
accept it as baseline normal. And yet each of us, right now, carries
that brokenness. We always have, since our first breath. And it
builds as we go through life, as we sustain our emotional and
psychological and spiritual bumps and bruises. We lose things –
and people. We hurt. Sometimes it's sharp and cutting, sometimes
it's dull and aching. But we carry it with us always. And yet John
hears promise of a time when that really will no longer be the case.
All sorrow and sighing will flee away. There will be no more
mourning over loss. There will be no more crying over fear. There
will be no more grief of any kind. Nothing will be allowed to cast
the slightest shadow over your gladness and joy ever again. We may
know now that some of the songs we've sung are untrue – we are not,
here in this age, “happy all the day.” But in a new earth, under
a new sky? You bet!
Yes,
the perfection of joy will be new joy, unending joy, ever-increasing
joy. Each new day that comes, you'll be gladder. You have no
thought to the joy and bliss you were made for, the contentment that
was custom-built for your soul, the peace that was tailor-made just
for you. But you will. You will! You will wear “a
beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of
mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit”
(Isaiah 61:3). You will become all gladness (Isaiah 65:18). Your
desires will be deeper and richer and more daring, and each and every
one of them will find its truest satisfaction. Along with that will
come total peace and safety, inside and outside. The perfection of
health will be new health.
We've
said how a resurrected body will be imperishable, how you will be
raised incorruptible. And that, with the promise of pain being a
thing of the past, means that every disease and adverse condition you
now know will be a thing of the past. There will be no such thing as
arthritis. There will be no such thing as dementia. No such thing
as cancer. No such thing as cataracts. No such thing as anxiety
or depression. No such thing as Parkinson's or Lou Gehrig's disease.
There will be no such thing as fibromyalgia or scoliosis, no such
thing as hearing loss or carpal tunnel. All disabilities and
diseases will be consigned to the history books. They'll be among
those former things that won't even come to mind any more.
Can
you daydream of life without those? With no disability, no disease,
no aches and pains at all? Not so much as a common cold or an
earache or a headache? Every thought coming through clearly, every
joint moving comfortably and smoothly? Every day, you will feel
young and vibrant and glorious and satisfied. Every day, you will
know that whatever the day holds – whether it be planting a tree or
rearranging the stars – will be a wild adventure, and that your
body and mind and heart and soul will all be 10,000% up to every
challenge that comes your way. Can you imagine hang-gliding off the
peak of Mount Everest, with the perfect knowledge that you're
immortal, invulnerable, untouchable, fearless? I think that one's on
my post-resurrection to-do list. And yet I know that all my dreams
and all my plans will pale next to the real possibilities I'm not yet
creative enough to think up. I guarantee that what we'll be and what
we'll do is wilder than your greatest dreams. Paul spoke of “an
eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison”
(2 Corinthians 4:17). And that's what we were made for!
But
best of all – we will be sinless! Oh, all these great joys are
wild and thrilling and exhilarating, but if we had still to carry the
burden of sin, how could we ever enjoy them? If we still had to fear
making a mistake, if we still had to wrestle with guilt, if we still
had reason to be ashamed, it would be the worst of curses. If sin
were to keep even a toehold in our hearts, the freshest world would
be the stalest hell. But sin will have no toehold in you. You will
be wholly purified and entirely sanctified and robustly glorified!
Sin will be a thing of the past. You will have no guilt. You will
bear no shame. With your body being powered by God's own Spirit, the
prospect of sinning, of missing the mark, will no longer be a
possibility. Your love will be so complete, and your wisdom so deep,
as to preclude sinning as an option. You will indeed be holy as the
Lord your God is holy – and God's love will be so infused into you
that sin will have nowhere to grasp. Marvelous joy – a sinless
life! Nothing ever to apologize over. Nothing further to repent
from. No resolutions of amendment to make. No more stumbles, no
more sidetracks. No more wrongs. You will walk with your head held
high.
And
with not only yourself but each neighbor sinless, the perfection of
community as we know it will be a new community, a new civilization.
For John sees “the
holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God,
prepared as a bride adorned for her husband”
(Revelation 21:2). We'll explore the significance of this New
Jerusalem, the Bride-City, more next Sunday. But for the moment,
suffice it to say that it means perfect community. Goodbye
loneliness. All the ransomed of the Lord will come to that Zion with
singing. All the resurrected will dwell together in blessed unity
and a degree of friendship that does not yet exist on the whole face
of the earth. If you've been married, you do not yet even grasp what
sort of closeness with your spouse is a possibility when sin and
sorrow exit the picture. When you've been entirely sanctified
together and when your resurrected bodies fully reveal your souls to
each other – the depths are unthinkable. And yet each of us is
destined to have a deeper friendship with each other than the closest
relationship we could ever have now.
But
the greatest thing in the new creation will be this: the perfect
presence of God. Long, long ago, the highest hope Israel received,
as a blessing offered on the condition of obedience, was this: “If
you walk in my statutes and observe my commandments and do them..., I
will give you peace in the land, and you shall lie down..., I will
turn to you and make you fruitful and multiply, and will confirm my
covenant with you. You shall eat old store long kept, and you shall
clear out the old to make way for the new. I will make my dwelling
among you, and my soul shall not abhor you, and I will walk among you
and be your God, and you shall be my people”
(Leviticus 26:3-12). And now, that is exactly what John hears
announced as a reality: “Behold,
the dwelling of God is with humans! He will dwell with them, and
they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their
God”
(Revelation 21:3). God with us. Us with God. What will it be like
to walk next to him, his glory unveiled, and see him face-to-face?
Remember last week: the skies and earth all fled from before God's
face. They could not bear to look at his glory which blinded the sun
and stars. And yet, in the new creation, we “will
see his face”
(Revelation 22:4). What no old-creation mountain or galaxy could
endure, your new-creation self will. As one medieval poet put it,
your resurrected self will be “stronger than the universe...,
strong enough, even without effort, to overturn the world!” And
because of that, and because you will be sinless, God will walk with
you, unveiled. No separation. No mask. No buffer. Unshielded
intimacy with God. Dwelling in his immediate presence. Being
beautifully identified as his. Living openly with him as his son or
as his daughter. The heights of spiritual ecstasy now are shadow and
smoke next to the glory of God's dwelling being with us.
Yes,
he is right to say he is “making
all things new.”
Right now, things are old. Human inventiveness is worn out –
every trend we devise is old-hat before it even gets out of our
minds. But they will be new. New because they'll be brought into
conformity with the infinite richness that is Jesus Christ, the
beginning of a new creation. The skies above will somehow be more
like Jesus. The rocks and trees will be more like Jesus. You and
your relationships will be just like Jesus – “we
are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but
we know that when he appears, we shall be like him”
(1 John 3:2). Everything will be like Jesus, because Jesus will be
“all, and in
all”
(Colossians 3:11). And so, patterned after Jesus as its template,
the heavens and the earth will all be restored and transformed –
completely new! Rejoice forever in what God will create!
Knowing
the joys in store is what comforts us now. Amidst every present
difficulty, “according
to his promise, we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in
which righteousness dwells”
(2 Peter 3:13). And these things “are
trustworthy and true”
– so take note (Revelation 21:5)! Hallelujah! This is what we're
living for – this shows why the gospel is such good news for our
future, and for the entire universe's future. Accept no substitutes,
but live by a faith that will lead you into the new creation. And
already it begins, for those who have faith: “If
anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation: the old has passed away;
behold, the new has come”
(2 Corinthians 5:17). But this is the beginning of what will someday
be brought to a fullness beyond our wildest hopes. How should we
live in light of what's ahead? How can we give thanks enough for
what's new? So go dream a dream, be joyful, and celebrate the
goodness of the God who makes all things new!