Dr. J. Lawrence Cuthill

April 25, 2010

Winter Park Presbyterian Church

Revelation. It has been called “the most misunderstood book of the Bible.” Because of its apocalyptic imagery, some of it described in excruciatingly graphic detail, the book has often been the province of the fringe – with wild interpretation and specific, calendarized application. By that I mean there have been many over the centuries, and certainly up to the present, who have claimed special insight into the identify of the anti-Christ and other evil players, as well as when the events described will take place, and where. Add to that the proliferation of books and a spate of recent movies pouring out of Hollywood – all of which propel people to a morbid fascination … or to close the book and let its mysteries molder.

The fascination reminds me of going to a raceway to watch automobiles speed around an oval. There are devotees who are dedicated to the sport, who understand the intricacies, are knowledgeable of the drivers and their personalities, and have their favorites. But from my untrained vantage point (and many others), what makes a car race exciting is when there is a crash. Similar to that is ice hockey, another game that, being from the South, I don’t understand. I’m learning, but again it seems the game only gets really interesting when a fight erupts, as they commonly do. What is the saying … “I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out.”

Back on track, Revelation has largely been avoided because of its disturbing, cataclysmic language. The irony is that it was written/given to serve as a beacon of hope rather than as a harbinger of doom. To those 7 little churches in Asia Minor awash in a pagan culture, vastly outnumbered and actively persecuted, and to the church across the centuries to this very day, there has been a continual need for reassurance and hope in the face of opposition.

This is not to create or feed a victim mentality, nor do I believe it should foster an escapist attitude. Rather, in the church’s efforts to fulfill its mission, it prepares us for the inevitable conflict and equips us, not with fear, bitterness and militant tactics – but with an unquenchable hope, a surpassing love and a future God would have us live into. In the face of chaos and catastrophe, Revelation reminds us in stunning terms who has control, and who will ultimately triumph – a lamb … the Lamb of God, … and evil, although powerful in the short-run, ultimately doesn’t stand a chance. Remember, John did not title this work “The Unveiling of the Triumphant Cruelty of a Despotic, Evil Empire,” but “The Revelation of Jesus Christ,” risen and reigning … forever and ever.

It was the martyred missionary Jim Eliot, killed in Ecuador by members of the Anca tribe, who wrote in his Bible, “I would rather fail in a cause that ultimately succeeds than succeed in a cause that ultimately fails.” Our cause will ultimately succeed.

Now given the reason Revelation was originally written, and that its message is not limited to the first century, nor reserved only for the end of time, what is its value and message for today? Let me put it like this: “Why is it we are always surprised when hardship comes upon us? It did then, and it does now.” Far better to know that than to be naïve, blindsided when it happens, and thus vulnerable to despair. People tend to react to hardship by one of two equally erroneous conclusions. (1) I am being punished for my mistakes, my sin. (2) I am a victim; it’s not my fault. Either could conceivably have a measure of truth, but people with over-sensitive consciences jump to conclude the first. The second is usually chosen by people who cannot accept responsibility and tend toward blame and self-pity.

It requires discernment; a discernment that takes into account that it may be, and to some degree likely is, a part of a much larger drama. A small part – call it a skirmish – in a much larger cosmic and spiritual struggle.

At another level, on a larger stage, we see the drama. Every news channel and newspaper races to report in as graphic detail as possible the dirty laundry, the atrocities, the brutalities that are late-breaking news. Massacre, famine, pestilence, disease … “Change and decay all around I see” … say the words of a beloved old hymn … so much so that we have raised our “shock threshold”.

David Henninger, writing in the Wall Street Journal, commented on a growing numbness to bad news. He said we may have as a nation “reached tilt with tragedy,” a metaphor drawn from the old pinball machines which would shut down if banged too hard by a frustrated player. To be sure we have been banged on hard, although nothing like the actual victims. Our capacity for shock at the violence has been recalibrated. It leads to numbness and/or fatalism.

The hope we must cling to in order not to be swept away by the tsunami of terror and trash … is a lamb. A lamb? (An aside: we were just in Scotland and it was lambing season. More photos were made of those cute, but very vulnerable little creatures gamboling in the pasture, than of anything else.) Didn’t we already say this? Yes, but in view of the challenges and our own faulty and feeble memories, it must be repeated, repeatedly. The Lamb Wins! Salvation belongs to our God and the Lamb. Against all odds, the Lamb wins.

Do we just passively try to convince ourselves it’s all going to turn out well? Our passage begs us to look at two important points from the vantage point of the throne room at the omega point, the end of time. I think it was Stanley Haurer who said, “One good image is worth a thousand explanations.” We are given a picture and there is a great company, a diverse and inclusive company, a company beyond number. In that company, there are no distinctions; no different sections … people from every tribe and nation and tongue. It’s a spacious place with room for all, although some will likely decline to attend. I’m put in mind of a great movie I’ve often thought of and spoken about. Sometimes Hollywood gets it right. The movie was Places in the Heart, starring Sally Field and Danny Glover.

In the plot, the husband of Field’s family was killed by accident by a young Black man who was himself killed by an angry mob. It detailed the struggles of this woman and family, the arrival of an “angel” in Glover, who helped them survive and then – at the end, there is a church service where communion is served. In a surreal and very moving scene, as the tray is passed, you realize the husband and young Black man are present and receiving the Host. A picture of that great company who “came to life” because, and here is the 2^nd part of the image … they are not simply together, milling about before the throne. They are engaged in joyful, reverent worship.

They are lifted from their preoccupation with death and sadness, struggle and shame. The tone is joy … and there are no more tears. Three little words. Common, everyday words. Words that, for many decades, have served as a marketing slogan for one of America’s most successful consumer products: “No more tears.” Those three little words on a baby shampoo bottle have promised peace of mind to millions of parents as they wrestled screaming toddlers out of their clothes and into the bathtub.

You can understand why the slogan has been so effective. What kind of parents would want a child to cry? Would that we could all go through life with no more tears; no more heartache; no more grief! All of us know, just from reading the newspaper, that far too many children in this world are forced to grow up with tears continually in their eyes; tears of hunger, of abandonment, of abuse. Would that the shampoo company’s promise could be universal: no more tears … not just in the bathtub, but always and everywhere.

According to Revelation 7:17, in the fullness of God’s time, that day will eventually come.

AMEN