Sermon from January 21, 2007
The book of Revelation tells a story of conflict. From age to age this conflict rages between Christ and the New Jerusalem on one hand and the beast and Babylon the Great on the other.

Early in Revelation's story, John reported a vision that reveals the nature and intensity of the conflict. It reveals why the Church is called on to play a decisive role in this age-long conflict.

In this vision I saw our congregation standing in awe on the far side of what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal. We strove to know the meaning of what we saw and what we should do. I had thought heaven was emptier and quieter. What we saw reminded me of the ancient scripture that calls heaven Mount Zion ... the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. In coming there we had come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven – Hebrews 12:22-23.

Our congregation was not alone. Though it never felt crowded, it seemed that as many congregations assembled with us as there are people that assemble in one of the great stadiums of earth. Yet it was quiet. What we saw took away all thought of unnecessary talk. We had all come in through the same door through which John passed in his day long ago. His description of what we saw and tried to understand cannot be equaled. I will let him say it in his own words in Revelation 4. I will try to tell you some of what I saw and heard there. Please join me in Revelation in the fourth chapter of John's vision.

The Throne
After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, "Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this." I have to caution you here. We, standing on the far side of what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal, expected something dramatic to happen on earth. It did not happen.

It became hard to think of earth at all. The sights and sounds of heaven made earth seem distant. Nothing had that effect more than what we first saw, which was what John first saw in this vision. At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian. A rainbow, resembling an emerald, encircled the throne.

Ideas of authority conferred of the people, by the people, and for the people no longer had meaning. Authority emanated from the one sitting on the throne like heat from a blast furnace. We had never been in the presence of authority like that. It did not invite comment. It did not invite careless talk or any talk at all, unless spoken to first; we hung back, trying to blend in with the rest, hoping we would not be the first to be noticed.

And I began to see the nature of the conflict that John has described in Revelation. Both angelic and human powers have resisted the one who sits on the throne of heaven. There in heaven, face to face with that authority, resistance seemed impossible. Seeing Him, I did not want to think about our checkered human life on earth. I could understand why the sages of our holy faith call our resistance a rebellion.

Seeing Him, I wondered why He permitted the rebellion. I think we all sensed that mystery and feared. The fear eased only when we remembered things John had written prior to this vision. Early in Revelation the churches to whom he wrote heard this salutation: Grace be unto you, and peace, from him which is, and which was, and which is to come; and from the seven Spirits which are before his throne – Revelation 1:4. This mix of majesty and mercy took some getting used to, but it began to calm us enough to remember something else John had written prior to this vision.

Christ said it. To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne – Revelation 3:21. Seeing the throne and its authority and all that went on around it had caused fear. The idea of sitting with Him on that throne befuddled us. Christ was promising to confer on His Church in some measure, in some way the authority of the one who sits on the throne. Only what we saw later explained that.

In the meantime surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were twenty-four elders. They were dressed in white and had crowns of gold on their heads. We hardly noticed them, because the throne itself was the site of what would have signaled a storm on earth.

From the throne came flashes of lighning, rumblings and peals of thunder. Someone from another congregation, who seemed to be a guide to the wonders we witnessed, reminded us that the children of Israel had seen something like it on Mount Sinai. The book of Exodus says that on the morning of the third day on Mount Sinai there was thunder and lightning, with a thick cloud over the mountain, and a very loud trumpet blast. Everyone in the camp (of Israel) trembled – Exodus 19:16.

When we saw the one who sits on the throne in heaven, His appearance reminded us of brilliant gems. When He prepares to act on earth, His appearance reminds us of thunder and lightning.

Our guide helped with another interpretation. Before the throne, seven lamps were blazing. These are the seven spirits of God. "Seven," he explained, "is the number of completeness ... The seven spirits are the fullness of God's power 'sent out into all the earth'" (Bauckham, Theology of the Book of Revelation, 109). Once again, we had the impression that the one who sits on the throne was about to act on the earth.

Also before the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal. Our congregation was standing on the far side of that sea of glass, opposite the throne and the one sitting on it. Someone else helped us know the meaning of the sea of glass. He explained that it "stands for everything that is recalcitrant to the will of God," (G.B. Caird, The Revelation of St. John the Divine, 65).

I recall seeing later in the vision of the New Jerusalem that there was no longer any sea – Revelation 21:1. I would like to have asked him further about this matter, but in the center, around the throne, we were beginnging to notice for the first time creatures unlike anything we had ever imagined.

Holiness
In the center, around the throne, were four living creatures, and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back. The first living creature was like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third had a face like a man, the fourth was like a flying eagle. Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under his wings.

Those eyes! It was as if pure sight, all-seeing, had taken four different forms. We all had the sense that nothing in heaven or on earth could avoid the gaze of those multitudinous, unblinking eyes. We instinctively looked away, trying to be inconspicuous. Even when we mistakenly thought one of the living creatures had turned its gaze toward us, we felt naked in our souls, as though every secret we ever had had been exposed for all to see.

It also troubled me that only one of those four creatures had a face like a man. We humans dominate the other creatures of the earth. We try to dominate inanimate nature. We think of ourselves as the measure of things To be represented by only one of the four living creatures (only one among equals, as we like to say) deepened the sense that we had little to say in that place, nor did anyone that mattered expect us to speak.

We needn't have worried much about that or the eyes, because in that place the living creatures give themselves unstintingly to worship the one who sits on the throne. Their sheer energy to worship intimidated us as much as their sheer power to see. We tire quickly in worship. We grow drowsy. We need help to keep our minds stayed on God for one hour. We demand variety in worship. Not one of those multitudinous, unblinking eyes wanders, as day and night they never stop saying: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come."

The great Isaiah caught a glimpse of this unceasing worship, and it nearly undid him. All of us and all the congregations around us knelt by what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal. None of us had uttered a word since passing through the door standing open in heaven. We had already felt fear and bewilderment and displacement. But to feel unworthy shut our mouths tighter, even as it opened our hearts wider.

I think it would have been unbearable, if it had not been for the grace and peace offered us by the one who sits on the throne. Even as it was, we felt the gulf between heaven and earth. Our faces crimsoned with shame at how out of place is the race of man amid the joys of heaven.

And I saw again the nature of the conflict that John has described in Revelation. The one who sits on the throne wants to be our God, and He wants us to be His people; and we resist. Some of us resent those, who no longer wish to resist. We even teach our young to resist. Man the measure of things refuses to be measured by a nobler ruler.

But the Holy One, the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come, has resisted our resistance and will resist. I did not understand His reaching out to us, who respond by striking out, until the 24 elders acted.

Creation
Whenever the living creatures give glory, honor and thanks to him who sits on the throne and who lives for ever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall down before him who sits on the throne, and worship him who lives for ever and ever.

Their act of worship gave the lie to our resistance. They lay their crowns, tokens of their own great authority, before the thone, and thus do they submit to the authority of the one who sits on the throne.

But they fear no loss of face, no loss of their proper authority, in bending down in service to His good pleasure. Where we clutch, they yield. Where we defend, they surrender. Where we see God taking from us what is ours by right, and we give back grudgingly, they see God receiving from us what is His by creation, and they give back willingly.

Here's how they put it: They lay their crowns before the throne and say: "You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being."

If He has made us, and not we ourselves, then it is justice that we should display in every way we can the wisdom and love embodied in what He created. That's how we glorify Him. It is justice that we should use what He created in ways that are consistent with the intentions of His creation. That is how we honor Him. It is justice that any powers He has entrusted to us should be placed in service to His good pleasure. That is how we give Him power.

And once again, I began to see the nature of the conflict that John has described in Revelation. Created beings deny their dependent status, but the Creator refuses to let their rebellion go unchallenged. And then, I began to understand the intensity of the conflict. It affects all of God's creation at all times and in all places. It is global in scope, and it is conflict to the death.

The Pastoral Center of Gravity
As we stood and knelt and stood again and repeated this joy of genuflection more times than I could count, a kind of knowledge began to impress itself upon my soul like a branding iron on the hide of a heifer. It was knowledge received before I had words to express it. Here is my stumbling effort to convey that knowledge.

Last month, we followed television coverage of rescue efforts to find three men, who had not returned from a climb toward the summit of Mt. Hood in Oregon. They found the body of one man, but not the bodies of the other two.

Loved ones of the three men came to Timberline Lodge at the 6,000-foot level to await the outcome of the rescue efforts. The wife of one man made a brief apperance on camera. It was painful to watch her and even more painful to hear what she said. Only her grief excused her folly. She said on camera, "The mountain has no right (to take my husband's life)." It was one of the more painful symptoms of that rebellion by which Man makes himself the measure of things and refuses to be measured by a nobler ruler.

The mountain is there, unchanged by generations of climbers, who fling themselves at its height and cold and unexpected storms and deep crevasses; and when the last climber makes the last ascent, the mountain will be there as in the days of yore.

What we saw across what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal, is there, unchanged by our "nursery sins" any more than Mount Hood is changed by climbers. And when the last rebel shakes his fist at heaven and dies, the one who sits on the throne will be there as in the days of yore.

Unlike the mountain, the one who sits on the throne comes down into the valley to take back from the rebellion what is His by virtue of creation. The permanence of His throne and the holiness of His being and His power to create – all promise decisive action on earth. Then, we saw what signaled His readiness to act.

In His right hand He held a scroll, covered on both sides with writing and sealed with seven seals. Residing in that mysterious scroll was the secret strategy by which the one who sits on the throne will take back from the rebellion what is His by virtue of creation. But who can open that scroll and set the strategy in motion?