Archive for August 2007
“Surely, I Am Coming Soon” (Revelation 22.6–21)
At long last, we come to the end of John’s Apocalypse.
Let us take a moment to review:
In chapters 1–3, John gave us a picture of Jesus Christ in glory, writing letters to the seven churches of Roman Asia, calling them to courage and steadfastness in their practice of faith. Revelation 4.1–8.5 portrayed Christ as the slain Lamb worthy to break the seven seals and so reveal the divinely ordered course of history. In 8.6–11.19, seven angelic trumpet blasts herald the beginning of the New Age in which “the kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever.”
Chapters 12–14 narrate the age-long conflict between “a woman, clothed with the sun” (the Church), “a great red dragon” (the devil) and his beastly minions (the Antichrist and False Prophet), and the woman’s child, “one who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron” (Jesus Christ). Although the war between them was fierce, its outcome was never in doubt—Christ and the church win. Chapters 15–16 portray God’s unfolding judgment as the pouring out of seven bowls of wrath, culminating in the destruction of Babylon, that is, the world organized in opposition to God. Babylon’s destruction, the defeat of Satan, and the establishment of God’s Peaceful Kingdom in the New Heaven and New Earth are the central themes of 18.1–22.5.
Through these chapters, John has been communicating a single message: The certain end of history is the kingdom of God, so pluck up your courage and remain faithful to Jesus Christ. As Martin Luther so eloquently put it, “He must win the battle.” We live between the time of Christ’s first coming and his second coming. At his first coming, Jesus Christ offered all humanity the grace of a second chance to repent and get right with God. At his second coming, Christ will affirm each of our choices, either confirming us in our badness or renewing us in his goodness.
But, as Tom Petty sings, “the waiting is the hardest part.” We live between the times. We have Christ’s promise, “Surely I am coming soon!” And as we suffer along with the suffering world, we pray, “Amen. Come Lord Jesus!” Notice that the “Amen” we offer affirms Christ’s promise to return, not our invitation to him to do so. It is our way of affirming the truthfulness of his promise. He will come indeed. All we must do is wait.
At the end of the day, the life of the Christian is one of patient trust, that God will accomplish what he has promised at just the right time, which is rarely when we expect it. And it is a life of hopeful optimism, based not on an assertion that the world is getting better and better but that God will make all things new. And finally, it is a life of perseverance, of sticking with God when the circumstances are bad and the good side seems to be losing.
At the end of the day, it takes courage to be a Christian. So be brave and stick it out: Christ is coming soon.
“The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.”
How God Changes People (Ephesians 4:17-32)
This past weekend, I spoke from Ephesians 4:17-32 on the topic, "How God Changes People." To listen to the message, click here. (It may take a few seconds for the file to load.)
The Healing of the Nations (Revelation 22.1–6)
Several years ago, I presided over the funeral of a twenty-six-year-old mother to five who had died suddenly and unexpectedly the week before, perhaps of a brain aneurysm. Her oldest stepdaughter was fourteen, her youngest son almost two. Ten years earlier, that same woman’s mother and father had died within one month of each other, leaving her and her two brothers orphans. The tragedy of the mother had become the tragedy of the daughter too.
The world is not supposed to work that way, but it does. Parents are not supposed to die before their children, but they do. Sons and daughters are not meant to grow up as orphans, but there are orphans nonetheless.
The world lies under a curse.
Revelation 22.1–6 speaks of “the river of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city,” that is, the New Jerusalem. “On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month.” With these words, John is making a point, namely, that the New Jerusalem is the old Eden, better, however, because purified.
In the opening chapters of Genesis, God planted Eden as a garden in the midst of the wild world, a fit habitation for Adam and Eve. Every blessing was present there, but Adam and Eve rejected what God had offered them in order to grasp after what God had forbidden them. Ever since, we have been denied access to the tree of life.
The world lies under a curse of death.
But God offers us life. Notice that the river flows “from the throne of God and of the Lamb.” God is the source of life. To believe in God and Christ is to experience life in eternity, even if we die for a moment. And notice this: “the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse.”
The world lies under a curse of death, but it need not.
Revelation 22.1–6 speaks of the life of the Spirit in terms of humanity’s basic needs for food, water, shelter, light, and warmth. And it portrays salvation as the healing of a deep wound. As I have reflected that funeral four years ago, I have been reminded of several truths that I too often ignore: Life can wound you. It will leave scars on you that cannot be healed in a lifetime. But all things can be healed in eternity if we place our lives in the hands of a Master Surgeon today.
Someday, the world’s tragic pain will give way to triumphant praise.
Why Asking Questions May Be a Bad Idea
Over at the FutureAG blog, Tory Farina posts six questions he wants candidates for the Assemblies of God’s next general superintendent to answer. I think that’s a bad idea. Here’s my response.
Tory:
As I wrote in an email to you, I’m opposed to asking these kind of questions of the candidates for several reasons:
1. The AG has a longstanding tradition that prospective national officers do not candidate for office. This has served the denomination well so far, and it fits within the biblical qualifications for office, which focus on character and proven competence rather than vision and future plans. I fear that if we begin to ask candidates essentially to write a platform for office, we will needlessly politicize the process, as people openly jockey for office. Do we really want our denomination’s elections to resemble our quadrennial presidential election campaigns? I don’t.
2. Some of the questions lend themselves to boilerplate responses. Most candidates will probably say that our biggest challenge is to make more and better disciples of Jesus Christ. I think, in fact, that all of the candidates would say something like that. We are, after all, an evangelistic movement. So what we will have learned if the responses are that generic? Nothing. The only thing we will learn is what jargon or lingo the prospective candidates use to express this basic vision.
3. Asking for specific policy ideas(women in ministry, outreach to younger ministers, etc.) is also not, in my opinion, a good idea. First, why focus only on these issues? We younger ministers think they are important, but they are not the only important issues our denomination is facing. Asking a candidate to declare what he is going to do may alienate people who like the person but disagree with the policies. Second, while the GS plays an influential role in shaping policy, much policy is actually determined by the board of administration, executive and general presbyteries, and even the general council.
4. Question 4 especially (about unique qualification) asks the candidates to openly campaign for themselves, and thus lends itself to a little chest-thumping.
5. One of the reasons many of us don’t know who these candidates are is because we are just showing up at general council for the first time. Many of us are uninvolved with the denomination (at the sectional, district, and general council levels). But all of a sudden, we are showing up on the scene, asking denominational leaders to change longstanding traditions, and respond to our specifric concerns as young ministers. If a person showed up at our churches one time and insisted that we make deep changes in our preaching and worship in order to satisfy his interests, we wouldn’t give them the time of day. Shouldn’t we be more involved in the system (at sectional, district, and general council levels) before we begin asking for major changes in the way things are done?
We younger ministers will lead this movement in the next generation. And we do things differently than the ministers and leaders older than us. But if we want them to respect us and our concerns, shouldn’t we show them the same respect by honoring longstanding traditions and refraining from politicizing this process?
We need an open forum for discussion, which is why I appreciate this blog so much, and especially your efforts. But we also need to realize that change takes time, and if we want to change the system, we must work from the inside. Asking potential candidates questions such as these, in my opinion, is an outsiders’ attempt to change the system.
See you at Indy!
George
The New Jerusalem (Revelation 21.9–27)
I have traveled to Israel six or seven times. The first time was the summer of 1982 when I lived with thirty other teenagers in Beit Jala, on the West Bank, building a “chicken coop” for a Christian school. The coop—or “poultry operations building” as we jokingly called it—would house several thousand chickens and provide a steady stream of income to the school.
On the weekends, we got to go into town, which normally meant Bethlehem—the closest large city—but often meant Jerusalem. Several of us would pile on a public bus to make the hour-long trek to Arab East Jerusalem, within walking distance of the massive Damascus Gate. I fell in love with Jerusalem the first time I saw it and spent much of my free time exploring its narrow streets and alleys. On my trip to Israel in January 1997, I peeled off from the tour group to spend some time alone and discovered—to my amazement—that I still knew my way around the city.
Revelation 21 speaks of “the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God.” Verses 9–27 describe its gates and foundations; its height, width, and depth; the precious materials that went into its making; and its inhabitants. It is a city like no other. For one thing, it is a perfect cube: approximately 1,400 miles high, wide, and deep. Its twelve gates each are made of a single pearl, and its streets are paved with gold.
Now, obviously, John is speaking symbolically here. How do I know this? Because John tells us so. The angel who shows John the new Jerusalem tells him, “Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb.” The city, in other words, is not a literal city, and not even a literal bride, but rather—literally—the church. What John sees is the church of Jesus Christ, the community of people who have put their faith in the God of Jesus Christ and received salvation as a gift. What, then, do John’s elaborate descriptions of the city tell us about the church?
First, it exists by the grace of God. It descends from heaven as a gift (verse 2). It cannot be built by human hands but only by a divine builder. That is why it shines with “the glory of God.” It is the work of his hands.
Second, it is built on and controlled by the revelation of God. Verses 13–14 describe its gates and foundations. On the former are written the name of the twelve tribes, representing the covenant God made with Israel, a covenant recorded and celebrated in the Old Testament. On the latter are written the name of the twelve apostles, representing the new covenant established through Jesus Christ with all people, which of course is recorded and celebrated in the New Testament. There is no church without the Word of God, without the whole of Scripture.
Third, it is beautiful (verses 18–21). John uses precious stones and metals to describe the church because those are earthly things that have connotations of beauty and value. To God, the church is beautiful, because he has blessed it with every spiritual blessing in Jesus Christ.
Fourth, God is present. The most important thing about the church is that God is present among his people. “I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple” (verse 22). We often speak about having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. In eternity, we will have that kind of relationship in all its fullness.
Grace, revelation, beauty, and divine presence: These words describe the church in eternity. To what extent do they describe the churches you and I worship in today? Let us pray—and work—for such churches here and now.
Newness and No-more-ness (Revelation 21.1–8)
For some time now, as we studied Revelation together, we have been reading seemingly endless scenes of judgment, of both the earthly and hellish variety. How many times has John spoken of war? How many times of drought, famine, pestilence, and plague? How many times has he mentioned the persecution of the saints and the final destruction of their enemies? Revelation 6–20 deals out dead and judgment in copious amounts and scrupulous detail.
And suddenly it is over.
With the simple turning of a page, John opens our eyes to new and glorious things: a new Jerusalem, a new heaven, a new earth. Revelation 6–20 informs us of what Jesus Christ saves us from. But Revelation 21–22 shows us what he saves us for.
To that we now turn.
Newness and No-more-ness (Revelation 21.1–8)
How do you describe eternity? What words can you use to portray a reality that none of us, save Jesus Christ, has fully experienced? Well, first, you have to rely on revelation. Someone who knows the unknown has to reveal it to you, in this case, a prophetic word from God through John to us. And second, you have to describe the unknown by means of comparison and contrast with the known.
So, in his vision (Rev. 21:1-8), John tells us to look at the current state of things, at the heavens and the earth, and at the human experiences encompassed by them. We can get an easy grasp on these topics; they are ones we know well, for they describe our own lives. Then John tells us to think about these things in terms of newness (comparison) and no-more-ness (contrast).
Newness: Four years ago, I purchased a new car, a Honda Element. It had that bright, shiny, never-been-used look to it. The silver paint glowed, the engine was clean as a whistle, and the interior had that new car smell that is such a delight to breathe in. Have you ever been out hiking or camping and come to some spot on the trail that is absolutely pristine? Untouched by human hands? Just the way God made it? That, John tells us, is what eternity is like. It is a perpetually new thing, a pristine creation, a new heaven and earth. Think of the joy you had as a kid when you unwrapped a new toy at Christmas and you will understand—if only slightly—the unending joy of eternity.
No-more-ness: John also contrasts eternity with our present experience on earth. Notice the things that, according to John, no longer exist in eternity. The “sea was no more.” When John received his vision, he was on the Isle of Patmos, separated by an ocean from his beloved churches in Asia Minor. In eternity, John tells us, there will no longer be such separation. And “death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore.” Death and its attendant emotions are part and parcel of life in this present age, but they disappear in eternity, for—in what may be the most beautiful image in Scripture—God “shall wipe away every tear from their eyes.” And, finally, there will no longer be anyone who opposes God and so wreaks havoc on his good creation. John lists a number of types of sinners who have no foothold in eternity, beginning with cowards and ending with liars. In Genesis 3, Adam and Eve listened to the serpent’s lie because they did not have the courage to resist him. At the end of the Bible, as in eternity, cowardice and dishonesty simply melt away.
This newness and no-more-ness is the direct work of God. It is what he alone can do. “Behold,” he says, “I am making all things new!” And that work of making all things new can begin in your life today. As Paul writes, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5.17).
Are you asking God to do a new thing in your life today?
The Great White Throne Judgment (Revelation 20.11–15)
I have served on three juries over the past few years, one of which heard a civil case, the other two criminal cases. It is difficult to sit in judgment on a fellow human being, to make decisions about actions that may affect his or her freedom. In one of the criminal cases—the defendant was accused of possessing methamphetamine with the intent to sell it—we found the man guilty. Although I do not know what the man’s sentence was, I assume it involved jail time.
That man’s case was interesting. He was an older man, an artist, who had fallen on hard times late in life. He seemed nice enough, not a hardened criminal or anything. And yet, when the police searched his car, they found a not inconsiderable amount of drugs hidden in it. The defense tried to argue that the drugs had been planted, but that excuse fell apart on cross-examination. The man had simply made a very bad choice and been caught in it. He broke the law, and we found him guilty.
It took several hours for us to do so, however. There were many pieces of evidence: witnesses whose memories of that day’s events did not agree on every detail, background information that had to be sifted through. And we did not want to dispose of this man’s case without having done our level best to ascertain the truth of the matter and reach a just verdict. Our deliberations were, therefore, deliberate, hard even; we held a man’s life in our hands.
Revelation 20 concludes with a description of the great white throne judgment at which “the dead were judged according to what they had done as recorded in the books.” The Judge in this case is no fallible group of twelve ordinary human beings. Nor is the evidence ambiguous or contradictory. As John portrays it, all our actions written in God’s books, which he reads as he prepares to hand down judgment. The consequences of that judgment are stark: Heaven for the innocent, Hell for the guilty. But—and this is crucial—we can choose what our verdict will be. John mentions twice that the dead according to “what they had done,” or more individually, “what he had done.” What you do—your intentions, choices, and actions—determine where you go. Guilt or innocence is in your hands.
C. S. Lewis once wrote, “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’ All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened.”
So, what do you choose? Your eternal destiny depends on your answer to that question.
