The Last Word

The Last Word

Revelation 22:12-21 

First Presbyterian Church of Batesville, AR

The Reverend Dr. Robert Wm Lowry

15 May, 2010  11AM 

At the moment, it did not seem quite so silly.

I had been in bed for a little more than a week with pneumonia.  The doctor told me not to get out in the damp winter air.  I really did not believe that there was anything to be worried about.  Nonetheless, with about 5 minutes to go, I roused myself from my sick bed; put on jeans and a sweater; put the dog on her leash and walked the five or so paces down the landing to Pete and Laurie’s apartment. 

Earlier that day when she brought me some soup, Laurie had invited me over.  I thanked her but said I doubted that I would get out.

As the clocked ticked, I began to rethink that decision.  Pneumonia or not, I decided better safe than sorry.   After all it was Y2K and if the apocalypse really was upon us and I was going to be left behind, I didn’t want to be left behind alone.  And I was pretty sure that if I was getting left, Pete would be around to keep me company.

Like I said; silly.

In retrospect I am embarrassed to admit that even that little bit of the millennium bug bit me just before December 31, 1999 rolled into January 1, 2000.  But I take comfort in knowing that I am in good company.  As one of my professors said a few weeks later, “the apocalypse makes people do funny things.”

And it does.  From the tinfoil hat wearing fringe to the mainstream of protestant theology, the apocalypse amazes, interests, confuses and, yes, frightens us. 

Of the many things I learned living in Scotland, one is that we Americans have a unique fascination with the Revelation of John of Patmos.  It is somehow written in our spiritual DNA.  While most of the Scots pastors I know are comfortable with Calvin’s conclusion that Revelation is an unnecessary muddling of the already clear history of salvation in Christ, we Americans can’t seem to get away from this tale of dragons and beasts; trumpets and seals.

Since Puritan merchant Edward Johnson declared the American colonies “a city on a hill” and the New England settlers “forerunners of Christ’s army,” there has been an ongoing love/hate relationship between our national self-image and John’s radical picture of the world yet to come.

For my part, I am torn.  Part of me says, “run.  Run as fast and as far as you can. Nothing good can possibly come from preaching this book.”  Another part still wanders over to Pete and Laurie’s just in case.

To be sure, John’s revelation is a fascinating read.  Part morality tale part science fiction, it is as if John Milton wrote the screenplay for the new Star Wars film.  Revelation is a page turner and, in many ways a puzzle.

For centuries theologians have tried to make sense of the sevens and the 666’s and the factors of 12 that punctuate the book.

By the time of the revolution, American protestant clergy had made a cottage industry of unraveling the puzzles of John’s writing.   A prominent Presbyterian pastor in New Jersey went so far as to predict that the millennium of Christ foretold in John’s writing would dawn in Elizabethtown, New Jersey on May 15, 1796.  On May 16, 1796, the elders of the church convened to fire him.

In “the Age of Reason,” Thomas Paine noted that when a clergyman attempts to “unriddle” John’s Apocalypse, he does so agreeably to his own views.

            Whether read as a roadmap for the consummation of history or an allegorical retelling of our shared reality, the book of Revelation has a singular ability to capture our imaginations.  Try as we may, the voice of John speaks even today.

So what are we to make of this book?  Is a portent of dramatic and tragic events to come or is there perhaps something more there for us?

We join John’s vision in its final chapters when he describes the vision he has been given of what is to come.

He sees a vision of a new heaven and a new earth.  They are entirely new creations, not the present world with a fresh coat of paint.  He sees in short, the victory of God over sin and death. 

It is important to remember the context of the people to whom John’s vision is related.  They were a church under persecution.  Now this persecution was different from the persecution many Christians today are fond of saying the church is subjected to.  While the church today is ridiculed on sitcoms and by comedians, while individual Christians may get some strange glances if they pull out their bibles in Starbucks, we as a church and as individual believers are not subjected to the kind of persecution the first century Christians were. 

We get odd looks, they got fed to the lions.  We get made fun of, they got crucified.

It was with this church, with this persecuted community that John shared his vision of the ultimate victory of God over sin and death.

That vision is not foreign to us.  Each year throughout the season of Easter we celebrate that in the life death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, there was the end of the beginning.  The fulfillment of the promise in the prophets that God would become human and dwell among us harkened a new age.  It harkened the age of the promise that is in Jesus Christ, Emmanuel, God with us.

We celebrate that it is in Jesus Christ that God has the final word for creation, and that word is YES!   In the midst of the turmoil of their age, and of our own, John proclaims God’s saving grace and his confidence that in Jesus Christ, God has indeed had the final word over creation.

We must be careful though.  We must remember that though God smiles on creation, there is much work to be done.  Because the victory over death has been won, does not mean that the battle with sin and death in this world is over.  Because we have the promise of a new creation, does not mean that this creation, the creation we inhabit as God’s people, is without need.

There is deep need in the world and as Jesus himself says, “the Kingdom of God is at hand.”

The promised kingdom is at hand.

It is that kingdom promise that provides the backdrop for the Church’s work.  The mission and work of the church is carried out with the promise that although there are great struggles ahead, the ultimate victory is won.  The task of the church is to bear witness to this dwelling place of the Lord, this new heaven and new earth that are promised.  If we but have the confidence of the people of God, all good things will fall into place.

It would be nice if it was that easy wouldn’t it?

However, we all know that there is much more to it than that.  We know that there are no easy fixes in the world.  We know that though Christ has won the ultimate victory over sin, our lives are still plagued by it.

When we come to this place one of the first things we do is confess our sins.  We confess that the blame for the troubles of this world sit on our shoulders as well as those of our neighbors.  We too are resistant to God’s vision.  We too contribute to the forces that resist the coming kingdom.  We too are scared of the change that is required if we are to embrace this new kingdom.  In fact, it is in few places in the world that our resistance is more determined that here in God’s own house.

We are scared that the church we have come to know will change if we

sing new hymns or

use different words or

hire a new pastor or

refer to God as a woman or

ordain gays and lesbians or

talk about controversial issues or

take stands against the prevailing public view.

Things are going to change and we don’t know what that will mean.  What will happen to the “good old days” if we dare to change?

Change begins to take on the shape of apocalypse.  We begin to see the promise of the future as the fearful coming of some cataclysmic shift in our reality.  The people of John’s time certainly saw that.  They saw the world around them shifting and changing and they did not know what to make of it.

Where was God?  What did and does God have in store?

“Behold,” God says, “I make all things new.”

The future belongs to God and God has made it clear that we are partners in this new creation.  God has also made it clear that in the end there will be no more death, no more tears, no more mourning or wailing or pain because all of this old will have passed away and a new life will begin.  What we fear as apocalypse is in fact promise.

I know that is why you are here today.  You are here for the same reason I am.  You believe that despite everything, there is something to this promise. 

The surest test of our Christian faith isn’t what we are willing to say or what we are willing to confess, or what we are willing to endure, it is about what we are willing to believe.  Will we dare to believe that the future, in whatever form it may take, belongs to God?  Will we believe that we go into that future not in peril but in promise?

In the coming weeks, we will be looking to the past as we discern this congregation’s future.  We will discuss, discern and even disagree.  We will negotiate change and work to preserve cherished traditions.  We will all have a say, but in the end God will have the last word.  In fact, God has already had the last word and that word is yes. 

At times it may begin to feel like there is too much happening too fast.  It may begin to feel like all the things happening in our own church are like a mini-apocalypse on the horizon.

The apocalypse makes people do funny things.  Perhaps, just perhaps, it may also give us the wisdom and courage to do marvelous things.  When, in the coming weeks, you find yourself feeling anxious about our future together, remember this; the future belongs to God and God has already had the final word to say.  And that word is, “yes.”

In the name of God the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  AMEN