Sermon from May 30, 1999
In my imagination I have a kind of nightmare about a man who stands a mile or so away from the ocean and says to passersby, "The ocean is straight ahead. You can't miss it. Oh, and you will find the ocean quite damp." I have that nightmare because we talk about God in the same stale and flat way.

We who have walked by the ocean would never insult it by calling it damp. We would more likely break into song with Byron and say,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

We with our over-familiar ways of talking about God need some divine poet to waken us from our trivial insolence. God in His unfailing love gave us one when He gave us John and John's masterpiece, Revelation. Paradoxically, Revelation, arguably the most difficult book in the Bible to interpret, has succeeded in capturing the imagination of ordinary Christians more than any other writing in the Bible, except perhaps the Psalms. It captures us by its vivid way of setting forth the end of all things. John's unusual ways of seeing and saying the commonplaces of our faith slow us down and help the deeper meaning of our faith to reach us.

John wrote Revelation as he did for another reason. He was carrying on a great tradition. In one way almost nothing in Revelation is new. Every image can be found in Ezekiel or Daniel, in Zechariah or Exodus, and in a variety of other Jewish and Christian writings inside and outside the Bible. John, writing as he did "the climax of prophecy," used those familiar symbols to write in such a way as to transcend even the great Isaiah, but the language itself would have been familiar to the prophets of Israel. They seem unfamiliar to us, because we remain unfamiliar with the Old Testament.

John's elevated theme and his challenging language draw us into a tradition that goes back thousands of years into the life of Israel. Thanks to John we have inherited this spiritual treasure. We need to return there again to his memorable picture of Christ.

Revelation endangers our understanding by overwhelming us with the unfamiliar and the difficult. My sermons on Revelation could add to the bewilderment. To help prevent that I will stop from time to time and review the broad outline of previous parts of Revelation. As a case in point, let me give you a recap of Revelation 1:1-8. Those eight verses form the prologue to the entire book.

Verses 1-3 of the prologue showed us first that Revelation is a prophecy. Biblical prophecy has several distinguishing features. A) It reveals the divine meaning of human events, including the events of our day. B) It tells how the human story is going to end. It does so in a way that baffles every effort to name names and set dates. I do not try to do that, and I hope you will follow my example. C) It requires a response to what it reveals about the divine meaning of the events of our lives. God did not give us this prophecy to titillate our curiosity but to change our lives.

Verses 4-5 of the prologue showed us second that God, who is the source of this prophecy, is favorably disposed toward the Church. The eternal God, His powerful Holy Spirit, and Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth, views us with great favor and with the intention that our lives shall be rich and complete.

Verses 5-6 of the prologue showed us third that Jesus Christ, whom God entrusted to fulfill this prophecy and who created the Church to fulfill this prophecy with Him, is worthy of all glory and power.

Verses 7-8 of the prologue showed us finally that at the Second Coming Jesus Christ will fulfill this prophecy and establish the sovereign purposes of God's heart over all the earth.

Verses 9-20 now present John's vision of Jesus as the Lord of the Church. He began with a point of solidarity between him and the churches to whom he was writing. I John, your brother and companion in the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance that are ours in Jesus, was on the island of Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. The island of Patmos was a place of exile for political undesirables. John was not writing theory. He too was suffering at the hand of the beast.

When he wrote about the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance, he was bringing out a theme that permeates Revelation. His language captures the arduous nature of this theme. Suffering and kingdom seem at first not to fit together. If there is suffering, where is the kingdom? If there is a kingdom, why is there to be suffering? But suppose that Christ's kingdom of necessity is a kingdom of suffering! Suppose that His kingdom comes into this world through suffering!

Something else here points in that direction. John said that he had gone into exile because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. This is the third time in nine verses that John has referred to the testimony of Jesus. He did so in verse 2 in these exact words, and he did so a second time in verse 5 when he called Jesus the faithful witness. Jesus Christ told the truth before Pontius Pilate, even though it cost Him His life. If our Lord's experience governs ours, then we have to say that His kingdom not only invites suffering but also comes into existence through suffering. This fact is central to John's prophecy. You can see why John also called for patient endurance.

John goes on to say, On the Lord's Day I was in the Spirit, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet, which said: "Write on a scroll what you see and send it to the seven churches: to Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea." We will meet each of these churches close up, and we shall see ourselves mirrored in more than one way in their experiences. But that awaits in chapters 2-3. Today calls us to rejoice over our Savior.

Already in verses 1-8 John has said an astonishing amount about Jesus. God had entrusted Him to carry out God's purposes for humanity. Jesus had passed that revelation on to John to pass on to the Church. Jesus views the Church with great favor and with the intention that its life be rich and complete. He told the truth before the authorities, and it cost Him His life. He rose from the dead in anticipation of the resurrection of humanity from the dead. He is the ruler of the kings of the earth.

Jesus Christ loves the Church. He has freed the Church from its sins. He has made the Church a kingdom of priests. His authority over all things is not apparent now but will be established at the Second Coming, and the nations of the earth will worship Him. Now John pictures Him memorably in verses 12-20.

We pay attention to a voice that sounds like a trumpet. When John heard it telling him to write what he was about to see, he did what anyone would have done. Verse 12 says, I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands. We will learn their meaning shortly.

And among the lamstands was someone "like a son of man," dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest (v. 13). Great people who dress like this do so to express authority and dignity, and they dignify all the rest of us whom they bless with their presence.

The description as someone "like a son of man" evokes images of Jesus from the Gospels and also Daniel 7:13-14, which portrays His entry into the presence of God to take up His authority over the whole earth. All that follows enriches our appreciation of His authority and dignity.

Verse 14 says that His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow. White hair, the expression of age and wisdom. White hair, not gray, but white as snow evokes Daniel 7's vision of the Ancient of Days, whose clothing was as white as snow; the hair of his head was white like wool. Here is One whose age weighs on us with crushing weight. He is of indeterminate age, but He is not old. His eyes are young.

His eyes were like blazing fire. These eyes flash with beauty and fiery intelligence and (perhaps) anger. They seem to look right through us. They burn away facade and social convention. Hypocrisy disappears under their gaze like newsprint on a log fire. He of immemorial age and penetrating gaze observes the sons of men; his eyes examine them (Psalm 11:4). He who is old past telling and eagle-eyed past change knows when we sit and when we rise; he perceives our thoughts from afar. He discerns our going out and our lying down; He is familiar with all our ways (Psalm 139:2-3).

His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace (v. 15). Feet give us our primary means of movement. His feet wore no shoes, but those feet were not troubled by stones or stickers or dirt or danger. Those feet go where they will, unimpeded. No cross holds them in place. No distance hinders their scope. Earth serves a a barely adequate footstool for those feet. Their bronze brilliance transports His blazing eyes unfailingly to their penetrating tasks and to the venues where He opens His mouth to speak.

And such a voice! John has already compared it to a trumpet. Now, he compares it to Niagara or to endless white water rapids. His voice was like the sound of rushing waters. We have heard voices like that, voices that command an audience just by their sound. "No one ever spoke the way this man does," the guards declared about Jesus – the guards who were supposed to arrest Him.

But it is not just the sound of His voice. His words have the finality of a sword thrust. Verse 16: In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword. Oh, to speak and make a point as unmistakably as the blade of a sword makes its point. His words are a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations (Rev. 19:15). This figure who speaks thus bestrides the world as its judge.

Finally comes the feature that defines any person – the face, the visible expression of invisible personality. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance, both splendid and intolerable; both life-giving and death-dealing; inescapable, illuminating, and irrepressible, the reality by which all other things can be seen.

This is the One whose voice caused John to turn and who might cause any head to turn. This is the One who brings news of the end of all things and who will some day bring about the end of all things. His person exudes authority and dignity, crushing antiquity, perpetual youth, penetrating gaze, relentless pursuit, irresistible speech, and judicial finality – all shining out on our world and on the Church like the sun.

No wonder John responded as he did. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead (v. 17). The only religious reason that makes sense of our being together week by week is that we are reaching back to this God who has reached out to us. Worship is our response to God's authority, and our response will in some measure manifest His worth. "Since we are composed of a twofold nature, (spiritual) and (physical), we offer God a twofold adoration; namely, a spiritual adoration, consisting in the internal devotion of the mind; and a bodily adoration, which consists in an exterior humbling of the body," (Summa Th. II-II, Q. 84 Art. 2). John, in deathlike prostration before Christ, lay in spiritual and bodily adoration, even as he wondered if he would survive the moment.

The Savior we honor deserves such adoration. No cathedral was ever too big for Him. No human being kneeling in honor before Him was ever too small. We honor Him by sermon, song, and prayer. This is the One whose worth wins our wealth, our sons and daughters, our faith, fealty, and undying devotion. Our fear of Him and our love for Him both please Him. We say this with confidence because of His next gesture toward John.

Then he placed his right hand on me and said: "Do not be afraid." He terrifies us, because we have never seen goodness unveiled. We think of goodness only as something safe. "Safe? Who said anything about safe? 'Course He isn't safe. But He's good. He's the king, I tell you," (The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis, 64). And such a king! "I am the First and the Last." "I am the beginning and the end." "I am the Alpha and the Omega." Revelation rings the changes on this theme. Here is the origin and the end of all things. He spoke and called forth matter; He spoke again and called forth that mysterious mix of spirit and matter that we call Man. Why should He not speak one last time and call forth new heavens and a new earth?

In verse 18 He speaks once more to John. "I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades." That is a key ring that we would like to get our hands on; but it would melt our hands. Only He who was dead and is alive for ever and ever is worthy to wield those keys with wisdom and impunity.

"Write, therefore, what you have seen, what is now and what will take place later. The mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand and of the seven golden lampstands is this: The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches," (vv. 19-20). Think of the seven stars as guardian angels for the churches to which John was writing. The Lord, who holds the seven stars in His hand like a bracelet, walks among His congregations. He who governs the nations makes housecalls. Wilmington is on His itinerary. We too are the apple of His eye. He cherishes us, and He speaks to us with tender mercies and with tough love. I propose that we be filled with inexpressible and glorious joy over our Savior. That calls for music. "Let those refuse to sing who never knew our God, but children of the heavenly king may spread their joys abroad."