“Of making many books there is no end,” said the Preacher, “and much study is a weariness of the flesh” (Ecc. 12:12)—especially if you are studying commentaries about John’s Apocalypse.
Few books of the Bible have been as ill served by their later interpreters as the book of Revelation. D.A. Carson described the multitudinous Puritan commentaries on the book as “eminently forgettable and mercifully forgotten.”[1] G.K. Chesterton famously quipped that “though St. John the Evangelist saw many strange monsters in his vision, he saw no creature so wild as one of his own commentators.”[2] And Ambrose Bierce defined Revelation as “A famous book in which St. John the Divine concealed all that he knew. The revealing is done by the commentators, who know nothing.”[3]
Bierce’s definition goes straight to the heart of the problem. John concealed his message in elaborate and highly figurative language—in code, so to speak. Presumably, his readers in the seven congregations of Roman Asia held the key to interpret the code. We do not, however; hence, the variety of interpretations.
Making our understanding of Revelation even harder is the proliferation of bad interpretations. A Gresham’s Law of Commentary seems to be at work: Bad interpretations drive out good ones. The more books are written about Revelation, the less understandable Revelation becomes. No wonder the average Christian reader approaches John’s Apocalypse with confused trepidation!
However difficult interpreting Revelation may be (or seem to be), it is not impossible. We may not hold the interpretive key our brothers and sisters in Roman Asia did, but we have a reasonable copy. At the very worst, we can always pick the lock. Indeed, that is what Christians have been doing for hundreds of years.
Over time, four basic schools of interpretation have emerged as useful ways to unlock Revelation.[4] Preterism interprets Revelation in the past tense. Although the events it describes were in the future of its original readers, they are in the past for modern readers. According to preterists, Revelation predicted either the fall of Jerusalem in A.D. 70 or the fall of Rome in A.D.476.
Futurism interprets Revelation as describing events at the end of the age, which are still in the future for modern readers. Although there are several varieties of futurism—such as historic premillennialism and dispensational premillennialism, the futurist interpretation is the one the average American Protestant is most likely to hear from the pulpit or read in a Christian book. The Left Behind series by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins, for instance, is a fictional presentation of the dispensational premillennial brand of futurism. Unfortunately, futurism’s very popularity makes it uniquely susceptible to Gresham’s Law of Commentary. For every reasonable futurist commentary that is written, ten or fifteen unreasonable ones are. And the latter commentaries are the ones that most often crowd the shelves of Christian bookstores.
Idealism, or symbolism, interprets Revelation without reference to specific historical events, whether past, present, or future. Rather, it reads John’s Apocalypse as a symbolic depiction of the kinds of battles the church fights with the world, the flesh, and the devil in every generation. The strength of such an interpretation of Revelation is its protean ability to speak meaningfully to readers in every age. On the downside, however, idealism seems to fail to grasp the historical concreteness of John’s warnings. John wrote about “the things that must soon take place” (1:1), not “the kinds of things that will always take place.”
Historicism, on the contrary, takes Revelation’s historical concreteness very seriously. It interprets Revelation as describing the unfolding events of church history. Thus, each of the seven seals, trumpets, and bowls correlates to a specific historical event, some already past but others still future. Historicism is almost solely a Protestant interpretation, no doubt because it identifies the Pope as the Antichrist of Revelation 13. Although common coin in the centuries following the Protestant Reformation, historicism now circulates rarely, if at all, but it still exercises influence in some circles, especially its anti-Catholicism.
So far, I have argued that Revelation is a hard book to interpret because of its elaborate and highly figurative language, the proliferation of bad interpretations, and the plausibility of several standard interpretations: preterism, futurism, idealism, and—at least in times past—historicism. Proverbs 18:17 says, “The one who states his case first seems right, until the other comes and examines him.” Everyone with the desire to read John’s Apocalypse should keep that wise saying in front of him- or herself at all times. It is perfectly respectable for Christians to favor one school of interpretation over another. But let us do so reasonably and humbly, for we may be wrong.
But if Revelation is so difficult to understand, and the possibility of misinterpretation so common, why bother reading the book at all? Two reasons: First, it is God’s Word, and promises a blessing to all who hear and heed its message (1:3). Second, it is God’s Word to us, intended by him to guide us as we “follow the Lamb wherever he goes” (14:4). In the end, then, perhaps we should think of Revelation as a compass to find True Spiritual North rather than a lock to be picked, as a map to be unfolded and used on the road to heaven rather than a mystery to be solved.
As I have worked through John’s Apocalypse, I have found the complex debates about the proper interpretation of details to be both fascinating and frustrating. But I have also discovered that, niggling details of interpretation aside, the basic message of Revelation is simple, obvious, and practical: Christ, our Hero, has defeated the devil, our enemy, and we will share in his victory if we “conquer” life’s trials and temptations in his name (2:7, 11, 17, 26; 3:5, 12, 21). Revelation both exhorts and instructs us how to do precisely that.
How, then, should we interpret Revelation? With its interpretive details in our peripheral vision—for they make up the scenery of the book—but with our eyes firmly on the application road.
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[1] D.A. Carson, New Testament Commentary Survey, 5th ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2001), 127.
[2] G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy, chapter 2; available online at http://www.ccel.org/c/chesterton/orthodoxy/ch2.html
[3] Quoted in J. Ramsey Michaels, The IVP New Testament Commentary Series, vol. 20, Revelation (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1997), 13.
[4] See C. Marvin Pate, ed., Four Views on the Book of Revelation (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1998), and Steve Gregg, ed., Revelation: Four Views: A Parallel Commentary (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 1997).
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