The Vernard Eller Collection

by Vernard Eller

“The Revelation of Jesus Christ, Made Known to John”

Table of Contents

• Revealing What?
• The Gospel according to John the Revealer

1. The Introduction to the Book 1:1-20
   1. The Commission 1:1-3
   2. The Greeting 1:4-8
   3. John and the Revealer 1:9-20
2. The Revealer’s Letters to Seven Actual Churches of the End-Time 2:1-3:22
   1. To Ephesus 2:1-7
   2. To Smyrna 2:8-11
   3. To Pergamum 2:12-17
   4. To Thyatira 2:18-29
   5. To Sardis 3:1-6
   6. To Philadelphia 3:7-13
   7. To Laodicea 3:14-22
   8. The Great Disjuncture that Isn’t
3. The Control of History in the End-Time 4:1-5:14
   1. The Throne of God 4:1-11
   2. The Scroll 5:1-5
   3. The Lamb 5:6-14
4. The End-Time as Seven Seals 6:1-8:1
   1. Seals 1-4: The Four Horsemen 6:1-8
   2. An Excursus on Trauma
   3. Seals 5-6: The Saints and the Kings 6:9-17
   4. The Seal Interlude: The Church-Below and Above 7:1-17
      1. Part A: The Church of the Living 7:1-8
      2. Part B: The Church of Those Who Have Died 7:9-17
   5. Seal 7: The Coming of the End 8:1
5. The End-Time as Seven Trumpets 8:2-11:19
   1. Introduction to the Trumpets 8:2-6
   2. Trumpets 1-4: The Four Plagues 8:7-12
   3. Trumpet 5: The Warrior Locusts 8:13-9:12
   4. Trumpet 6: The Demonic Cavalry 9:13-21
   5. The Trumpet Interlude: The Scroll and Its Contents 10:1-11:13
      1. The Eating of the Scroll 10:1-11
      2. The Fate of the Church 11:1-13
   6. Trumpet 7: Victory to Our God! 11:14-19
6. The End-Time in Freehand Sketch 12:1-14:20
   1. The Woman and Her Child 12:1-6
   2. The Dragon Thrown Down 12:7-17
   3. Enter, the Beast 13:1-10
   4. And Another, the Unholy Spirit 13:11-18
   5. The Lamb and His Hundred Forty-Four Thousand 14:1-5
   6. The Collapse of Evil’s Kingdom 14:6-13
   7. The Parousia as Harvest 14:14-20
7. The End-Time Intensification as Seven Bowls 15:1-16:21
   1. Introduction to the Bowls 15:1-16:1
   2. Bowls 1-5: The Worst Plagues of All 16:2-11
   3. Bowls 6 (Interlude) and 7: Collapse at Armageddon 16:12-21
8. The Events of the End 17:1-20:3
   1. The Great Whore, Babylon 17:1-6
   2. The Whore and Beast Explained 17:7-8 & 18
   3. The Nero Ciphers 13:18 and 17:9-17
   4. The Fall of Babylon 18:1-8
   5. Lament Over Babylon 18:9-24
   6. Exultation and the Promise of the Wedding Supper 19:1-10
   7. The Parousia of the Rider 19:11-20:3
9. The Apportioning of Mankind 20:4-15
   1. LIFE: The Millennial Resurrection 20:4-10
   2. DEATH: The Final Sentencirev5ng to the Lake of Fire 20:11-15
10. The New Heaven and the New Earth 21:1-22:21
    1. Introductory Overview 21:1-8
    2. The New Jerusalem in Detail 21:9-27
    3. The New World Attempted 22:1-5
    4. An Excursus on Universalism
    5. Closing Exhortations 22:6-21
11. An Epilogue

Revealing What?

A technical and authoritative exegesis of the book of Revelation this is not. Our purpose is more to amble through it as a book to be read and enjoyed rather than treating it as a corpse to be dissected or a cipher to be broken.

Revelation is here called “revealing” not because it displays attractive figures for calculating the time of the end, but because it highlights some of the most engaging contours of the gospel.

And right at this point lies the nub of our entire book. What the book of Revelation is intended to reveal, we will contend, is the gospel, the good news of who Jesus Christ is and what he accomplishes–this rather than secret information regarding the when and how of events from the hidden future.

The first consideration impelling us this way is the title of the book itself. You will not learn what that title is, however, by looking in your Bible at the table of contents, a title page, the heading of the book, or whatever–whether you find it reading THE REVELATION OF ST. JOHN THE DIVINE or any variation thereof. It is clear that John himself would not have approved such a title: the person it names is not the one he has any interest in drawing attention to.

I can testify from firsthand experience that publishers like to change a book title from the way the author had it; it gives them a sense of power. But John was clever enough to beat this game by incorporating his title into the text itself. The title of Revelation is its opening phrase: “APOCALYPSIS JESU CHRISTUS–which God gives to him.” John does not get around to naming himself until somewhere on down the line–and then only as the last in a series of transmitters of the revelation, certainly not as its author, instigator, or possessor. Apocalypsis is the Greek word translated “the revelation,” denoting an unveiling, a disclosure, a making known; and the book is presented as an apocalypsis of Jesus Christ. The phrase apparently is meant to carry two senses. The phrase “which God gives to him” makes it plain that Jesus is to be understood as the Revealer, the prime possessor and bearer of the revelation. But the likelihood is that John also wants to designate him as the content of the revelation. Jesus Christ is both the Revealer and that which is being revealed. The remainder of John’s book would support this interpretation; he understands that he has been given a message from the Lord Jesus, which message, in turn, tells us who this Lord Jesus is, what he represents in the totality of his being and work, his history past, present, and future.

This being so, in his title John also has given us the primary principle for interpreting his book. Even though he works at it from a perspective somewhat different from that of the rest of the New Testament, John is essentially at one with those other authors, namely in his desire to proclaim and expound the person of Jesus Christ, the same Jesus to whom they witness in their ways. It follows, then, in our effort to understand John, the first question always to ask is, “What is he trying to tell us about Jesus?” Consequently, we should test our interpretation by attempting to correlate it with what we otherwise know of Jesus. We shall insist, then, that at every point the attempt be made to read John as giving us a revelation of Jesus Christ which is to be harmonized with the larger revelation of Christ which is the New Testament itself–this, rather than as a revelation of future history to be correlated, now, with “signs,” i.e., whatever can be observed in today’s world and in the political events of the twentieth century.

Although it will take the remainder of our book to find out how successful this principle of interpretation can be, it is obvious here at the outset that it will point us to something quite different from the currently popular mode of reading Revelation. That mode we shall call “calendarizing,” an effort to fit the events of John’s visions into the world-historical calendar of the recent and coming events that constitute our own socio-political experience.

It is most apparent, of course, that an interpreter is calendarizing when he makes an outright prediction of a date for the return of Christ, the end of the world, or whatever; but it still would come under our definition of calendarizing if he chose not to cut it that fine but made his prediction only for an approximate period. Indeed, it is quite possible to calendarize without mentioning time at all. For instance, if one were to identify, say, the Antichrist as a particular historical person, or the kings mentioned by John as representing modern nations, this still would have the effect of locating his visions on our time scale and on the calendar of our history. We do not mean to deny that John’s events could or will happen in our history; we do mean to deny that either John or God has any intention of enabling us to locate them in or detail them as a part of our historical future.

To this point we have averred only that, in his title, John has pointed us in a direction other than calendarizing and that we intend to follow that lead. Of course, we have yet to demonstrate that the book itself tends more this way than to calendarizing. But before we proceed to that, it will be appropriate to show that the New Testament as a whole very much discourages calendarizing and that, in fact, calendarizing has the effect of undermining the very eschatological stance (attitude toward last things) which the New Testament is intent to teach.

There is one very obvious but often-ignored fact out of church history that should drive us back to the New Testament to check out this matter of calendarizing. That is, the contemporary scholars who now are so sure they have the Revelator’s picture nailed down to an historical when, where, and how–these are by no means the first calendarizers to have made such a claim. We currently are riding a surge, but this same sort of interest has waxed and waned over the long centuries. And every single calendarizer up to this generation has been proved wrong–dead wrong. The cumulative batting average for no one knows how many thousand self-proclaimed pros is .000. Of course, those presently at the plate say, “But now the evidence is so much clearer; now the signs are unmistakable; this time we’ve got it, I guarantee you.” Yes, but know for a fact that all of the former calendarizers were just as certain, said the very same thing in their own day. They were reading the same book of Revelation, were just as capable observers of history, were just as open to the Holy Spirit, had just as convincing arguments.

There is, of course, the fact that some Bible prophecies have been fulfilled. We do not propose to go into the matter here except to observe that the nature of those prophecies was such that, when the event itself took place, they could be cited as confirmation that it had been prophesied ahead of time. However, there is no evidence of what would be a quite different phenomenon, namely that the prophecies ever made it possible for anyone to make an accurate prediction as to just when, where, and how the event would occur. The accomplished fulfillment of some Bible prophecies provides no excuse or justification for contemporary calendarizing.

If all those previous attempts to make Revelation produce an accurate calendarized reading unanimously have come to naught, perhaps the question should occur as to whether calendarizing is the means by which God intends us to read that book. At least, white rats try some other way of getting through a maze after they have gone down the same blind alley so many times. In any case, it won’t hurt to go back to the New Testament manual to see whether calendarizing actually was what the instructions called for.

As we turn to the New Testament, we will look first at those sayings attributed to Jesus in which he specifically counsels against trying to get at the secrets of God by doping out “signs”–which is precisely what calendarizing does. We don’t propose to do anything like detailed analysis at this point, debating whether it can be proven that Jesus actually did make each of these statements, whether one or another of them might not be interpreted so as to be irrelevant to our issue, etc. We are going to cite quite a number of scriptures but have no desire to hang a great deal of weight on any one of them. We will go through them rapidly and then talk about their cumulative thrust; and even this will constitute only a rather minor step in our overall argument. So please save your rebuttals until we have had time to draw the full picture. We will treat the texts in their New Testament sequence, even while recognizing that many are simply parallel reports of the same saying.

In Mt. 12:36ff, Jesus is talking about the coming day of judgment, and some doctors of the law and Pharisees ask him for a sign. Jesus responds, “An evil and adulterous generation asks for a sign; but no sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah.” Mt. 16:1-4 reports a very similar incident in almost the same words, adding only, “Then he [Jesus] left them and went away.”

Mk. 8:11-13 gives us the same kind of situation with only a slightly different response:

“Why does this generation ask for a sign? Truly I tell you, no sign will be given to this generation.” (Mk. 8:11-13)

Mk. 13:5-6 reads,

“Then Jesus began to say to them, ‘Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, “I am he!” and they will lead many astray.’ (Mk. 13:5-6)

And then, in Mk. 13:21-23:

And if anyone says to you at that time, “Look! Here is the Messiah!” or “Look! There he is!”–do not believe it. False Messiahs and false prophets will appear and produce signs and omens, to lead astray, if possible, the elect. But be alert; I have already told you everything. (Mk. 13:21-23)

(What we have quoted here from Mark 13 is paralleled almost word for word in Mt. 24:4-5.)

Lk. 11 29ff is almost an exact restatement of the first incident we reported from Matthew. Lk. 17:20-24, then, reads:

Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the Kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you. “

Then he said to the disciples, “The days are coming when you will long to see one of the days of the Son of Man, and you will not see it. They will say to you, ‘Look there!’ or ‘Look here!’ Do not go, do not set off in pursuit. For as the lightning flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be in his day.” (Lk. 17:20-24)

Again, in Lk. 21:7-8:

They asked him, “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?” And he said, “Beware that you are not led astray. For many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he,’ and, ‘The time is near!’ Do not go after them.” (Lk. 21:7-8)

Jn. 21:20-23 is an example of a somewhat different type but of similar effect. The conversation is dealing with matters of eschatological destiny, and Peter asks Jesus about what is to happen to one of the other disciples. Jesus answers, “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is it to you? Follow me!” At that point the Gospel writer breaks in to tell us that some of the early Christians understood this to mean that the disciple would not die. He then comments, “Yet Jesus did not say to him that he would not die, but, ‘If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is it to you?’–a rather clear instance of Jesus squelching curiosity about details of the end.

Finally, in Acts 1:6-8, following the resurrection, in Jesus’ last conversation with his disciples, they put to him the question, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Jesus answers, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.”

Putting them all together, they spell something less than enthusiastic support from Jesus or the church that produced the Gospels for any effort at getting one up on things and trying to write history before it happens. Would our present day calendarizers claim that they are free to ignore this counsel? Would they claim that the author of Revelation, under God’s leading, ignored it?

Granted, at other points in the Gospels (and sometimes right alongside our passages) Jesus does talk about and even identify some signs of the end. How are we to reconcile the presence of these two types of text?

Some scholars would do it at a stroke by denying that Jesus ever spoke of signs and by attributing all such references to later interpolators. That solution strikes me as being too neat and easy, and unjustified. My best help, then, is to suggest that most if not all of the signs Jesus acknowledges are of a sort different from those that could be used as a basis for calendarizing the future. Rather, they are of the sort involved when we say, for example, “The demonstrations taking place on campus are a sign of student unrest.” In such case the “sign” is simply the outward, visible side of an event which also includes deeper, less visible, but more significant aspects.

The “sign” is an indicator that enables us to understand the full implications of what is happening–but certainly not a means of calculating what is yet to happen. And if such is the case here, then Jesus’ acknowledgement of these signs in no way contradicts his warning regarding those.

But there is another way of corning at the whole matter; we need not draw our final conclusion at this point. We can ask the question: does the New Testament suggest any reason why Jesus should be opposed to calendarizing? We shall see that the answer comes back: yes, to calendarize is to undercut the very eschatological stance Jesus was intent to teach.

This new consideration turns our discussion in the way it ought to go–away from the merely negative of what Jesus opposed and toward the positive of what he encouraged. These positive teachings, again, we find scattered throughout the Gospels; but we do not propose to ferret out them all. Matthew includes pretty much everything in this regard that the other Gospels do; and his work has the advantage of drawing Jesus’ eschatological teachings together into one passage rather than leaving them scattered. Mt. 24-25 will tell us what we want to know.

The key presupposition (supported both by texts we have examined and by those we are yet to examine) is given its definitive statement in Mt. 24:36, “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son; but only the Father” (italics mine). Calendarizers argue that Jesus is saying, in effect, “Go ahead with your predictions, but don’t try to cut it as fine as the day or the hour!” But particularly when we see the total context of Jesus’ thought, such an interpretation is shown to be sheer sophistry.

Because no one (not even Jesus himself) knows “when,” the consequence for the Christian believer follows as stated in verses Mt. 24 (as crucial a text as any used in this book)

Keep awake, therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore, you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour. (Mt. 42-44)

Rather plainly, the reason Jesus is opposed to calendarizing is that it leads people into thinking they know something they have no chance of knowing. The reason they have no chance of knowing it is that God never intended they should. And the reason he does not want them to know is that, if they did, there no longer would be any cause for them to be constantly awake and perpetually ready. If I “know” when the end is to happen, then, of course, until the time actually comes, there is not the slightest reason to “hold myself ready.” And to plead, “But I don’t know the exact day and hour,” doesn’t affect the situation in the slightest. No, calendarizing comes through as an attempt to pull an end run on God and find out what he expressly indicated is not to be found out.

The matter does not hang exclusively on the passage quoted; it is followed by a collection of three parables, each bearing directly upon the point.

1. The first, in Mt. 24:45-51, is the story of a servant whom his master left in charge of the household staff. He (on the basis of his calendarizing calculations) “knew” that the master would be a long time coming and so used the interim to really live it up and misuse his fellow servants. But the master came back early, and the servant was caught in sad shape.
2. Conversely, the second parable, found in Mt. 25:1-13, is the familiar story of the wise and foolish maidens. The wise maidens equipped themselves for perpetual readiness; but the foolish maidens (on the basis of their calculations) “knew” that the bridegroom would come soon and so neglected to carry any reserves of oil. It turned out, however, that the bridegroom returned late, and the maidens were unprepared.

That these adjacent parables should be the precise converse of each other is significant; it forces one to the conclusion that the only possible stance is that of perpetual (both early and late) readiness.

The third parable, Mt. 25:14-30, is that of the talents. The useless servant was so sure (on the basis of his calculations) that the master would come right back that he felt it sufficient simply to protect the coin that had been entrusted to his care. But as you might guess, he was caught just the way every calendarizer has been; the master’s delay made it clear that he should have invested (made use of) the money.

This teaching of a perpetual readiness based precisely upon the fact that we have absolutely no information about the “when” of the end does not come through as the stance only of Jesus; we find the same thought reiterated consistently throughout the New Testament. It shows up typically as a two-part affirmation. The first thought is that “the time is short”; the second that the time of the end will be a surprise, with Jesus coming as a thief in the night.

Both affirmations, of course, are prominent in the Gospels. But then, in Paul, strong assertions about the shortness of the time are found in Rom. 13:11-13 and 1 Cor. 7:29-31–these coupled, in turn, with 1 Thess. 5:1-2, “Now concerning the times and the seasons, brothers and sisters, you do not need to have anything written to you. For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.” Later writers also emphasize the shortness of time in Heb. 10:25, 36-37 and Jas. 5:8. The First Epistle of Peter comes through very strong on the shortness of the time, “The end of all things is near” (1 Pet. 4:7 and 1 Pet. 4:17), and perhaps implies the surprise aspect, “Discipline yourselves, keep alert.” (5:8-11). Second Peter reverses the emphasis, being very strong on surprise: “But the Day of the Lord will come like a thief” (2 Pet. 3:8-10), but only implying the shortness of the time: “Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish…. ” (2 Pet. 3:11-14).

Finally, the book of our particular interest, Revelation, says in its very first verse that these things “must soon take place” and, in its next-to-last verse, “I am coming soon”; and it repeats the thought any number of times between those two statements. But also, regarding the surprise aspect, Rev. 16:15 (a crucially placed statement) reads: “See, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and exposed to shame.” and Rev. 3:3b says much the same thing. (By the way, is it plausible that an author who includes such a statement at two points in his book could be writing the very same book for the purpose of telling us when the day was to come: “Jesus wants to come like a thief, but here are the data you need to calculate the time of his coming”?)

Here, then, is a double theme, rooted in the teaching of Jesus but permeating the New Testament as a whole. The “surprise” element, of course, accords very well with the basic counsel of perpetual readiness. However, the “time is short” element is another matter. It could be interpreted–and perhaps on first reading normally would be interpreted–as a calendar claim: “I know, have specific information as to when the end is coming; and it is right away now.” If that is what these statements intend, we have two problems.

1. In the first place, the “time is short” element then stands in direct conflict with its counterpart “surprise” element. How are we to handle that?
2. In the second place, if these truly are calendar claims, then they are all false claims and all these writers were just plain wrong; they said something was going to happen “very soon, and it still hasn’t happened almost two thousand years later. That being so, it would seem risky business for modern calendarizers to base their calculations upon the very works of those calendarizers who have been so thoroughly discredited by history. Or do our modern calendarizers claim the competency to use the evidences of Jesus, Paul, and the other apostles and writers but succeed where they failed?

Obviously, the preferable alternative is to see whether it is not possible to understand this “time is short” element as something other than a calendar claim. There is one good line of evidence indicating that it never was meant as calendarizing. If we peg the idea as originating in the teaching of Jesus and then trace it through Paul, the writing of the Gospels themselves, and on down into the later epistles and writings, then we have documentary evidence that the expectation was current in the church during almost every decade from AD 30 on to the end of the century. Yet, through this period, writers could continue to state the expectation (and readers continue to accept it) without apparent difficulty over the fact that their predecessors had been stating the same expectation for some time–a time that was stretching out to something like seventy years. Clearly, the statement about the shortness of the time was not being understood as a calendarizing claim–that would have forced the unavoidable conclusion that too many leaders had been too wrong too often.

But if they are not calendar claims, what do these statements intend? Let me suggest some possibilities. It may be that these different writers were meaning to say, “For all we know, the time is short,” or “Although we have absolutely no ‘knowledge,’ we ought always to assume that the time is short (and be ready to go on assuming that as long as necessary).” This would be a proper way of describing and fostering perpetual readiness: “Precisely because I don’t know, I had better operate under the continual assumption that the time is short.”

Similarly, some events are such that in their very nature they display the character of “soonness,” no matter when they may be scheduled to occur; they are so big that their own moment cannot contain them; they bulge over even into the present. A little child could lead us into understanding how “Grandma is coming” is a “soon” event whatever the calendar indication might be.

The suggestions above would indicate that the “time is short” expectation is to be understood as a subjective description rather than an objective claim; the statement refers to the stance of the subject (the believer) rather than to the factuality of the object (the historical time scale). But at the same time I am firmly convinced that, in the minds of the early Christians, this idea of “soonness” also carried another significance that involves much more of objectivity.

It is not the case that the writer is looking ahead, peering into the dim future and seeing the end making its approach, thus to proclaim, “The time is short; the end is at hand.” Rather, he is looking back, there to see all that God already has done in the way of bringing his promise to fulfillment; he sees the arrival and work of God’s Messiah, his atoning death and victorious resurrection, he sees the coming of the Holy Spirit, the creation of the new faith community and its missionary outreach, and he says, “The day is far gone, and the time is short. No matter what the dates or times which the Father has set within his own control, it is evident that the ‘distance’ (i.e., what needs yet to take place) between what God has done and what yet must happen is short; the end could come at any time; the time indeed is short.”

And note well, this is a statement Jesus could make in his day and it is entirely true and proper. Paul can make the same statement some years later; it is still just as true and proper. Seventy years after Jesus it can be made again–still true and proper. We can make it today, as the centuries stretch into millennia–still just as true and proper as it was in the mouth of Jesus. Indeed, the obligation of the church is to keep on making that statement until the end itself closes off the words. It is when the church fails to announce that the time is short that she has fallen away from the truth of the matter.

And this brings us to the point of the entire argument. Our study has demonstrated that a sense of eschatological expectancy permeated the entire New Testament church and its literature. Further, although we have not done so, it would be easy to show that every aspect of that church’s life and thought was driven by the motor of such expectancy. This eschatological expectancy was both the motivation and the content of Jesus’ preaching, service ministry, and atoning work. It is the basis of New Testament ethical teaching. It was the source of the early church’s life and the explanation of her distinctive character. It was the dynamic and definition of her mission in the world. The New Testament itself is both the fallout from and the exploration of the implications of this early Christian eschatological expectancy. And one of the central values of our study of Revelation should be an increased understanding of what these assertions mean and how true they are.

A critical consideration follows; contemporary Christianity is truly Christian only insofar as it shares this eschatological expectancy; outside of it there hardly are grounds for claiming the name “Christian”–any more than a candy that does not taste of lemon can claim to be “lemon-flavored.” Christianity is “Christness”; and the essence of the New Testament understanding of Jesus Christ lies in his being as eschatological promisor, agent, first fruit, and guarantee of the oncoming kingdom of God.

To restore to the church, then, a vital sense of this expectancy is all-important. Insofar as the calendarizers are concerned to do this, they deserve approbation and support–if only they were willing to give some attention to the ethical, political, theological, and ecclesiological implications of the same. But because they have chosen an unbiblical, unchristian means of establishing that expectancy, they have skewed their whole effort.

Consider that an expectancy based upon a calendarizing claim is completely vulnerable to disappointment, disillusionment, and despair–as assuredly it has happened to every calendarizer up to the present time. “I was sure I knew when the end would be. I became highly expectant about that coming. But now, that date has come and gone; my information was false and my expectancy a delusion. Wrong–all wrong! I have no basis left for faith or expectancy.” Disappointed expectations can have no effect other than to blight and kill the Christian life.

Then consider, on the other hand, that the biblical expectancy of perpetual readiness is entirely immune to such disappointment. “Yes, I expect the Lord soon. I know he is coming, but he never even intimated that I should know when. So if he comes today, great! –That’s what I’m expecting. If he doesn’t come today–I’ll expect him tomorrow. He can’t break an appointment with me, because he never made one. The day God chooses will be ‘soon’ (and soon enough for me) as long as it is Jesus who comes.”

Both the calendarizers and those who are perpetually expectant want to say, “Jesus comes-yes, he comes soon!” But there is all the difference in the world between saying it because one thinks he has broken a code and extracted inside information on the matter and saying it because he doesn’t know and so, on faith, assumes always that the next moment might be it. And it seems clear which is the stance the Bible itself affects and recommends.

There is, also, another respect in which calendarizing tends to skew things. The interest of most calendarizers seems to begin and end in speculation about what is going to happen then. Biblical eschatology puts more of its emphasis upon what the expectancy of those future events has to say about the quality of my life and action now: What should I do to be ready? We will find the book of Revelation coming through very strong in this respect.

We need, finally, to give consideration to what the calendarizing approach implies about the nature of the Bible. The calendarizer must assume that the book of Revelation, for example, is written in code: the biblical author uses esoteric, symbolic language, but he actually is talking about present-day entities, alignments, and events. There are here references to the present situation in the Mideast–Jews, Arabs, Russia, China, the European Common Market, et alia.

If this is so, it follows that no one had any chance of truly understanding Revelation prior to the present day when the actual referents came into existence. Only we have had any chance of understanding Revelation, so, obviously, God must have intended the message of the book only for us–to tell us that the end will happen in our day. Yet certainly, if God intended the message for our ears alone, he could have found a way of delivering it directly to us. But that he chose to put it into circulation almost two thousand years before there was the remotest chance of anyone’s understanding it implies some very wicked things about God.

We know beyond question to whom the Revelator’s writings originally were addressed and delivered. Rev. 1:4 reads: “John to the seven churches in Asia.” Elsewhere the seven churches are named, and there is nothing mystic or ethereal about them. They were actual, concrete, everyday little congregations in first-century Asia Minor; the cities (or ruins of the cities) in which they existed can still be located today. However, it is not true that the book was John’s word to them if they had no way of knowing what he was talking about. If the suggestion is that John thought he was writing to the seven churches and only God knew that the message actually was reserved for late twentieth-century Christians, then God was playing with both John and the churches. If the suggestion is, rather, that John knew he was writing only for the twentieth century, then he was not being truthful when he said that he was writing “to the seven churches in the province of Asia.” What kind of God is it who would lead generations upon generations of Christians to read a book, believing that they had the word of God and were being addressed by it, while, the whole time, God knew that it was a locked secret which they didn’t even have the wherewithal to understand? If calendarizing is the method by which Revelation is meant to be read, then God and no one else is responsible for the crushed expectations of all past calendarizers; he gave them a puzzle for which there was no way they could get anything but a false solution.

Flatly rejecting all such implications, we propose another basic principle for our study of Revelation. We take with all seriousness John’s assertion that he is writing to the seven churches in Asia. Therefore, any interpretation of his words that patently would not have been a possibility for the original readers cannot be accurate. Or, to put it the other way around, we can accept as accurate an interpretation of John’s words only if his original readers could have understood it so, too. Indeed, if anyone is eavesdropping or looking over anyone else’s shoulder in this matter, it is we moderns and not our first-century brethren. Revelation is not, in the first place, God’s word to us–with them used merely as a vehicle for getting it to us. In the first place, it was God’s word to them; and they, knowing John personally and being part of his historical and cultural milieu, had a better chance of understanding the book than we do. It is God’s word to us by indirection (although not, by that token, any less the word of God) as we find ourselves able to identify with those Christians and discover that what was written for their benefit can be of great benefit to us, too.

The Gospel According to John the Revealer

We still are in process of setting up guidelines and clearing the ground preparatory to plowing through Revelation. But now we turn a corner of sorts. We have been working at the somewhat negative matter of explaining why we will not take the popular approach to the book-although, at the same time, we were developing the positive orientation for the sort of perpetual expectancy that is basic to our study. Now, however, we will become entirely positive in looking directly to Revelation itself.

It may be helpful to be told what we are going to find in Revelation even before we look. So here follows a list of what I consider the most basic insights the book has to offer. None of these is different from what is to be found elsewhere in the New Testament; but the nature of Revelation gives it an advantage, perhaps, in pointing up and emphasizing them.

1. Revelation helps get the Christian gospel into its proper context. We discover that the good news does not center upon–and is not limited to–discrete, scattered, isolated transactions between God and various individuals. “Salvation” includes much more than just getting myself taken care of; the Christian interest involves much more than enjoying merely “what Jesus has done for me.” No, God’s action must be seen in a much broader, all-inclusive frame of reference.
2. Because of God’s role within it and his authority over it, the entire sweep of human life and history must be viewed as a meaningful sequence. The riddle of human existence never will be broken–simply cannot be broken–as long as one’s sense of history amounts to “the history of me” and his sense of time to an awareness of “now.” And the attempt to identify “now” as “the end” does not change the situation. Indeed, the current Jesus Movement penchant for calendarizing is probably just one more manifestation of our societal philosophy that there is no real meaning or significance outside of “the now generation.” Only the now is real; so, unless the end is now, it isn’t real and relevant; ours must be the last days.
   
   But no, Christianity–and particularly the book of Revelation–avers that “the real” is a totality encompassing human existence from Creation to New Creation and that the meaning of any particular “now” is to be found not in itself, but in its relationship to the totality. Thus, because it is part of the one historical process that is reality, “the end” can be of great significance for “now” without its actually having to occur now. The reality to which Revelation points is the reality of the historical whole, not simply of a particular historical moment within (or beyond) it.
3. Yet the calendarizers are correct in stressing that “the end” is of primary importance. However, that importance is not to be found simply in the moment of the end itself but in the fact that its presence gives an “end-state orientation” to the sequence as a whole. The meaning of history lies essentially in that it is a process pointed toward a goal; and that goal determines the meaning of history’s first moment (the creation) and its present moment (the “now”) just as much as it does its last moment (the end itself). The Bible–as a whole, as well as in its various parts–is very much an end-state oriented book. And the great contribution of Revelation is in helping us read it that way. Jesus, by centering his entire message and ministry upon the coming of the kingdom of God, pointed us in this direction. Revelation, by picturing history from its end, simply drives the lesson home.

The key is in learning to think eschatologically–and this calls for a word of explanation. Eschaton is the everyday New Testament Greek word which means simply “the end.” However, in biblical parlance the term is used in a more technical sense as a reference to the consummation and end of history itself. Eschatology, then, is thought and doctrine concerning the end, last things. Customarily “eschatology” has shown up as a final chapter of books on systematic theology and as the final lecture in seminary courses in the same. The content of such eschatology usually amounts to speculation concerning the end-time events.

But this understanding marks a distortion of biblical eschatology. Far from being a minor chapter within Christian theology, eschatology there is the basic stance that governs the theology as a whole. It deals not simply with the events of the end-time but is much more concerned with how the presence of that end affects the very constitution of the gospel and every aspect of Christian thought. And it is right here, in stressing eschatology as a total end-state orientation, that Revelation can be most contributive. The book obviously is “eschatological”; yet, if a person can get out of the calendarizing blinders and look at it with open eyes, he will discover that it consists of very much more than just speculation regarding last things. It is a revelation of Jesus Christ–

• the totality of Jesus Christ in the totality of his mission and ministry, his death and resurrection, his living lordship, and his coming again–from an eschatological perspective.
• It is an explication and proclamation of the gospel–from an eschatological perspective.
• It is instruction in Christian discipleship–from an eschatological perspective.
• It is a portrayal of the church–from an eschatological perspective.

Revelation is written within the same eschatological perspective, the same end-state orientation, as the rest of the New Testament; but it is done in such a way as to make that orientation much more clear, explicit, and self-conscious than is the case elsewhere.

A NOTE FOR THE ESCHATOLOGICALLY RESISTANTThe demand that one look at life and history (and even oneself) from an end-state orientation may strike you as esoteric and unnatural. But consider that you are quite willing to think in these terms in other connections. Any “game”–a chess game, for example–is very much an end-state oriented operation. The rules of play in chess decree that the sole goal of the procedure is to bring the opponent’s king into checkmate. Only moves that contribute to that end are “good” moves; and they are “good” only to the degree they do so contribute. How many other men I capture, how many of my own men I manage to protect, how soon I get one of my men into his king row, how quickly or slowly I make my moves, how many different pieces I use, how much my play impresses the spectators-these and all other factors have significance only insofar as they contribute to my checkmating his king. That end is the measure for everything that happens within the game itself, from first move to last.And just so, John affirms that the one end that gives significance to human history, and the one norm by which can be measured the extent to which any event within it is “good,” is the coming of the kingdom of God. With the Revelator’s help, we still will need to say a great deal about what that kingdom is and how it comes; so wait until you see how Revelation handles an end-state oriented presentation of world history before you decide whether or not you “like” eschatology.

1. When the Revelator affirms that history is end-state oriented, for him this is identical with the affirmation that God is Lord. The particular end-state for which he sees history destined is “the kingdom of God,” i.e., the situation of God’s ruling as king, the time when all things are ordered according to his desire and plan, when his will is done on earth as it is in heaven. And it is because the wherewithal for that rule already is present in God and, through his mighty acts, already is making itself felt in the world, that it confidently can be proclaimed as the end-state that will be. It is because God always has been Lord and even now is Lord that the end of history can with certainty be described as his lordship consummated.
   
   Yes, the Revelator does also affirm that man, created in the image of God, likewise has a freedom, ability, and power to make his mark in history. We will see how significantly he recognizes and honors this fact. Nevertheless, John must say that, in the final analysis, the will of the Lord God rather than the activities of men determine the outcome of history.
2. Because the Lord of history is this God, and because its end-state is the accomplishment of his will, it follows that the action of the drama is universal in its scope. A major motif of the Revelator’s account is its “universalism.” Do not, at this point, go reading a lot of implications into the term. It is by a very careful exegesis of many texts from throughout the book that we will let John himself draw the implications. At present, by the term “universalism” we mean to affirm only the very fundamental concept that the Revelator intends his as being the one story of history, the one end-state that is to encompass all things. His is not presented as the story of just one particular people, one faith, one race, one planet (?). He does not leave room for alternative universes to have other stories going other ways to other ends. Because the Lord of history is one, history itself is one, and John’s is the one story of mankind.
   
   Of course, any person is free either to accept or reject the truth of the story presented in Revelation. But the thing he cannot do is accept it as one among a number of the true understandings to which men have come regarding history. Essential to Christian eschatology, with its affirmation of God’s lordship, is a claim of universality; so it must be either the New Testament view of history (represented, in our case, by Revelation) or a view derived from secular historiography or a view from one of the mystical, non-eschatological religions or something else. The universality of the Revelator’s claim prohibits mixture.
3. If God is the Lord of history and the one whose kingdom constitutes its end, it follows that man, on his own, has not the ghost of a chance of discovering history’s purpose or of bringing it to pass. His call, rather, is to come to God, learn of him, be directed by him, and become molded and enabled through him–this rather than striking out on his own, no matter how nobly inspired and well intentioned the effort. Thus John’s book is presented as being a revelation from God rather than merely creative insights of the author himself. And if the book’s witness is to be authentic, the reader must accept it on the same terms. This is not to deny that there may be present earthbound, human, Johannine elements as the book stands in its written form. But unless God was involved in revealing the truth of its overall message, the book is without authority, for its subject matter clearly lies beyond human competency.
4. Absolutely basic to John’s understanding is the conviction that the Lord God has willed JESUS CHRIST to be the one through whom history’s end-state be revealed–and not only revealed but also put in motion–and not only put in motion but also brought to consummation. The story of history is to be the story of Jesus Christ; God’s lordship is to be his lordship. This relationship is portrayed most explicitly, of course, in that the achievement of history’s end-state is signalized as the return of Christ. However, it is very important to realize that this yet-to-come Jesus Christ is not some sort of mythic construction put forward as a representation of a golden-age ideal. He is identified as the entirely concrete, down-to-earth personage who became flesh among us, whom we have heard, felt, seen, and known in all his historical actuality. Likewise, because of his resurrection from the dead, the Jesus Christ known to contemporary Christians here and now as a vital presence of action and power also is to be identified as this same person.
   
   That Christian eschatology is the story of this Jesus Christ gives it an utterly unique character. Jesus Christ–the entire New Testament knows–is preeminently an eschatological figure. But it is not that he suddenly becomes eschatological with his appearance at the end of the age. No, his every appearance and his continual presence always have been and ever will be eschatologically oriented toward and significant in relation to the end-state of all things.
   
   Because Jesus Christ has been, is, and will be present in these ways, history suddenly has been given a unity and continuity. The future (that end) is not something detached and different from the present (this “now”). The end does not have to come in this generation for the book of Revelation to have meaning for us. The presence of the already-come, always-come, yet-to-come (in every tense “coming”) Jesus Christ ties us into that future–whenever God decides it should happen. Jesus Christ–and not any human efforts eventuating in the perfection of man–spells the continuity of history. Jesus, in his career within history, was the proclaimer and teacher of the coming kingdom of God; this was the core of his message. More, his works were those of the kingdom–wiping tears, putting an end to death, to mourning and crying and pain. More still, if the kingdom is the situation of God’s will being perfectly done, then where Jesus was, the kingdom was. “My food is to do the will of him who sent and to complete his work” (Jn. 4:34). Also, in his resurrected presence as the Lord who even now is with us, Jesus still signifies the kingdom of God. “When anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (2 Cor. 5:17).
   
   It is the presence of this one who is our Eschaton that makes our own moment of history eschatological, no matter where it happens to fall upon the calendar of God. For John, eschatology is precisely and nothing other than the apocalypsis (revelation) of Jesus Christ–this much more essentially than any prediction of socio-political events, whether of this–worldly or other–worldly origin.
5. That it is the return of Jesus Christ that marks the eschaton says something very important about the character of the end-state. Who Jesus Christ is determines what that situation shall be; what we already have come to know as his character and style will be the character and style of the end events. How he acted in first century Palestine will be how he acts in last century Everywhere.
   
   This point is particularly crucial for our reading of Revelation. Some aspects of the Revelator’s description of the Christ of the Return sound, upon first reading, like a radically different Jesus from that of the Gospels. But Jesus Christ is a constant in John’s calculus–is the constant in John’s calculus. And for him, the character of the historical man Jesus defines the content of the theological entity “Christ.” So it is inconceivable that this author could understand Jesus Christ as changing character with the change of the times. If, then, it is possible to find an exegesis that maintains this constancy, it always is to be preferred over any other. Yes, there is room in Jesus of Nazareth for judgment and redemptive sorts of punishment; and there is room for them in Revelation. What there is not room for in either is cruelty, vindictiveness, gloating, or vengeful punishment.
6. When the Lord God and his will are made as all-in-all as the Revelator chooses to make them, there is sometimes the temptation to play down the reality and power of that which is the opposite of God and resistant to him. We think to glorify God by giving the impression that everything is going his way. How beautiful is the world on its road to the kingdom; how beautiful, mankind attaining the likeness of its Master!
   
   The Revelator doesn’t fall for this one (nor do the other New Testament writers). He is acutely aware of the presence (and threat) of sin and evil and treats them with appropriate seriousness. The fullness of God’s salvation is not, for him, explained in terms of a lack of opposition; quite the contrary. God’s glory is enhanced by its having been polished in hard-fought encounter with very powerful and entrenched enemies.
   
   Revelation is the more helpful to us for taking such a view. Not only is it more biblical, it also is more in accord with our own experience in the world. The book is for real, talking about the world we know and with which we must contend.
7. Yes, the coming of the kingdom must entail an all-out struggle against the opponents of God. Nevertheless, John displays total confidence that the victory will be God’s. However, that claim does not represent mere optimistic projection on John’s part. Not at all; God’s final victory is guaranteed, because the completely decisive battle already has been fought and won. Jesus did the fighting on Good Friday; God confirmed the victory on Easter. There lies the turning point of world history; all that went before was prologue, all that follows (including the coming of the end itself) is epilogue. Jesus’ death-and-resurrection was “it”; thereafter, God’s war for the world can go to its appointed end. Thus it is in reference to this event (and none other) that John reports a voice from heaven:
   “Now have come the salvation and the power
   and the kingdom of our God, and the authority of his messiah!” (Rev. 12:10)A very important implication follows. The Revelator cannot portray any new and subsequent face-off between God and Evil and still be true to his revelation–not even a final showdown at the end. Any such would detract from what Jesus did at Calvary, and would imply that that victory had been something less than sufficient. Contrary to the way Revelation usually is read, we will find John being entirely consistent in this regard; it is a point we will want to watch.
8. Finally, because the important victory already has been won and because the Victor is himself present and active, it follows that the end-state right now is proceeding out of the Christ event, the kingdom at this moment is in process of becoming actual. This is not to discount the importance of or expectancy for “that day,” the time when the heretofore “coming” kingdom shall in all truth “be” as it is in heaven. However, it is to affirm–as Revelation most certainly does–that eschatological reality is to be tasted as well as waited for. And this, in the final analysis, is why the Christian can afford to be perpetually expectant, can be happy in his eschatology whether God has named this as the last generation or not. Right now we are in the Eschaton which he is, no matter when the eschaton of “that great gettin’-up morning” arrives. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!

The eleven points above are so completely assumed and so pervasively implied in Revelation that they are too big to fit into a commentary regarding a particular verse; so we have presented them here. Now you can (and ought to) read them out of the book as a whole.

I am convinced that most of our popular calendarizers would themselves accept most of the points presented here. They probably would admit that they are true to the book of Revelation and might even agree that they are more fundamental than matters of date and detail. Yet I maintain that calendarizing curiosity carries the focus of interest away from these essentials and over to controversial side-issues. Calendarizing commentaries tend to distract from the most basic ideas of Revelation; the hope is that this one can come down on them with both feet.

We now are ready to read our way through Revelation–except that we ought to make a few observations regarding the book’s overall structure and method.

Two charts to which we will make repeated reference are included in this book: a Time-Line of the Revelator’s Construct of History, and an Outline of the Book of Revelation. There is no need to study the charts now; we will use them as we go along.

We are going to make one important assumption regarding the formal structure of Revelation. It is a matter that cannot be conclusively proven either way; but our alternative seems to make better sense of things. We assume that not all the events John describes are meant to constitute a single, straight-line sequence, each scene following directly upon the heels of the one before. Rather, at points, John takes the liberty of doubling back, going another time through a period already covered, giving us a new angle on it, using a somewhat different imagery. His might be called a “spiral approach,” circling back (as a good teacher does) to fill in and fill out a concept by coming at it in different ways. The second chart makes evident where the doubling back occurs.

This observation leads to one of a more general sort. Throughout his book our author displays a certain freedom, flexibility, and imagination. After all, his material is presented as visions”–and visions are the stuff from which poetry (and not a travel guide) is made. The book is a masterpiece in its use of imagery and word pictures. And we ought to have the courtesy to read the book after the manner in which the author presents it. Yet most exegesis forces him to plod precisely when he is trying to soar. It is the old problem of not being able to see the forest for the trees. We tend to read scripture with a close, analytic mind-set that focuses not just on trees, even, but on the makeup of the bark and leaves. No wonder we fail to appreciate the vista of the forest and the joy of a walk through it!

The need to read and think in terms of “scenic views” rather than “factual analysis” is particularly crucial regarding a “vision book” like Revelation. We should be ready to turn our imaginations and spirits loose to run with the author rather than continually forcing him to halt with: “What does that mean?” “How is that phrase to be interpreted?” “Why did you color that horse red?” “Is that a reference to the ten nations of the European Common Market?” Revelation calls for readers who are dreamers, not nit-pickers. So let John draw his pictures, and then you scale your meditation to their large lineaments. Indeed, the form customary to commentaries may not be the best for handling Revelation–so we will try to keep ours from becoming a customary commentary.

In this regard, neither I nor any other commentator should claim to be able to explain every verse of the book and satisfy every problem concerning it. I, for one, am more than willing to say, “I don’t know,” to any number of questions that may be asked. Even so, our understanding of the book as a whole certainly should be controlled by the big ideas that are clear, emphatic, and repeated rather than by the obscure allusions that give us trouble. So again, let us not force John to plod by demanding an explanation of every jot and tittle before we are willing to enjoy his big scene.

A great deal of the Revelator’s imagery and even phraseology comes from the Old Testament; evidently he knew that volume virtually by memory. But the manner in which he uses these references is more noteworthy than simply the fact that he uses them. Although filled with such borrowings, his book is by no means a mere pastiche or patchwork. He has digested the material and made it his own; when he uses it, he uses it in his own way, for his own purposes, enhancing the uniqueness of his own vision. In some cases we can be helped to understand the Revelator by examining the Old Testament source of the reference; and we shall do this where it seems helpful. But more frequently it is the case that his creativity is such that one can learn much more by studying the context within which he places the reference than the one from which he took it.

There is, however, another consideration that sometimes makes the identification of Old Testament allusions important. When the Revelator uses a quotation, he, of course, is not himself responsible for the exact wording involved. Assuredly, he selected the quote because he wanted its main idea; but the wording may carry some implications he would have avoided had the phrasing been strictly his own. The reader should be willing to grant John a little more latitude when he is working with the earlier tradition than when he is speaking entirely for himself.

One basic aspect of John’s “poetic,” imaginative approach is found time and again throughout his book. It is the “symmetrical” relationship he develops between the kingdom of Good and the kingdom of Evil. On point after point after point, even down to rather small details, a feature regarding the Good will have its counterpart regarding Evil. The main structure of this symmetry we will outline now; details we will note as we come to them.

THE GOOD	over against	THE EVIL
God the Father	1	Satan, the dragon
Jesus Christ, the Lamb	2	Antichrist, the beast
The Holy Spirit	3	The False Prophet, the second beast
The Woman Clothed with the Sun	4	The Great Whore
Jerusalem (Old and New)	5	Babylon

The symmetrical approach seems, indeed, to be a very effective and accurate way to portray Evil. Evil comes through as a perverted, mirror image of the Good. And this is the explanation of its power and attractiveness. Evil is not sheer ugliness but rather counterfeit beauty; that is why it is so dangerous. And John’s symmetry is designed to emphasize the counterfeit aspect. Evil is the negative of the positive print which is the Good, the dark image of that which is light, the demonic inversion which spells perversion.

This basic principle within Revelation could be called “dualism,” except that that term usually implies some sort of equality between the powers involved. John’s symmetry won’t allow such. Counter to the organization, advancement, and edification of the Good stands the chaos, regression, and deterioration of Evil. In Jesus Christ, the Good appears as power hidden in apparent weakness; the counterfeit is Evil’s apparent power that hides its true weakness. Besides, John wants to tell us that the Evil we encounter already has been defeated in Jesus’ death and resurrection. Revelation doesn’t come anywhere close to portraying a dualistic, fifty-fifty chance between Good and Evil. For John, the only power left to Evil is that of seduction–that and nothing more. Seduction is a power to contend with, of course-particularly for us who are so vulnerable to it–but it isn’t something that puts the outcome of history into doubt.

There is one other feature of the Revelator’s work which is just as significant as his symmetry. It is his symbolic use of numbers. In this instance, too, his Old Testament constitutes a rich tradition behind him; but, again, he uses it with particular power and effect. His primary number is SEVEN. Tracing clear back to the seven-day creation account of Genesis 1, it represents wholeness, unity, harmony, order and is thus the number of Good and of God. Over and beyond the sheer number of times “seven” appears in John’s text, a glance at the Outline will reveal to what extent Revelation itself is structured over the number seven. It could well be called The Book of Sevens. John has done this deliberately; it is a potent way of proclaiming: “History is built on sevens and is going to come up sevens. God is Lord, and the world is his!”

Much less prominently, THREE also occurs as a good, God number. There is some evidence that John, this early, is beginning to read Trinitarian implications into it.

But John thinks symmetrically; so, if Good has its number, Evil must have its, too. The number is THREE-AND-A-HALF. It may be that the Revelator derived this from Daniel’s “a time and times and half a time” (Dan. 7:25 and elsewhere). But it may also be that both authors understood it the same way: 3 1/2 is a “broken” 7. The pattern is right; Evil appears in a perverted image of the Good, and its number is the broken version of the Good number; it is counter in every respect.

There is one other prominent number in the Revelation glossary. TWELVE is the number of the church, Zion, the people of God. John explicitly derives it from the twelve tribes of the old Israel and the twelve apostles of the new Israel, which is the Christian community. That the number twelve has this double referent is John’s way of making a most important theological affirmation. Although, at the time he was writing, Jews and Christians were very much at each other’s throats, John insisted that this situation did not mark God’s ultimate will and plan. Through Jesus Christ, he intends to bring them together into the one people of God; and the one number, twelve, with its bilateral reference, is the sign of the essential unity.

A further general observation about the structure of Revelation should be made. The Time Line chart suggests that John’s account covers two basic periods.

1. The End-Time, leading up to the end itself, begins with the close of Jesus’ earthly ministry and continues until his return (the point of demarcation).
2. The End itself includes the events consequent upon his return.

Now according to both John’s chronological indicators and the number of key events involved, the second period is longer and carries more weight than the first. Yet, in terms of the writing space he devotes to each, the first period gets eighteen chapters to three for the second-or approximately fifteen pages to less than three for the second.

The rationale for this apparent disproportion seems clear. Both John’s original readers and we ourselves are living in this first, end-time period which lies between Jesus’ historical incarnation and his eschatological coming again. This is the period that concerns us specifically; in a very real sense, the rest is out of our hands. And John’s primary purpose in writing is to give practical instruction for the situation in which his readers actually find themselves. Thus the very proportioning of his book is evidence that John did not share with contemporary calendarizers their primary concern of doping out events that are of no real relevance to present obligations and opportunities.

Not only in specific preparation for writing this book, but as part of my ongoing education, I have read a good many books about Revelation. Many were worthless; but from many others I undoubtedly have derived insights that have become so assimilated as my own that their point of origin no longer can be identified. I am not volunteering now to undertake the research that would be necessary simply to give credit to whom credit is due. Anyone who recognizes something he thinks belongs to him can consider himself thanked.

However, the one book I found most helpful and upon which I am most dependent is that by the Swiss-American scholar, Mathias Rissi, Time and History (John Knox Press, 1966). Even so, the form and style of his book was such as to make it hard to use and of virtually no help to lay readers. Besides, it is now out of print and generally unavailable. My presentation is enough different in kind that it is as much as impossible for me to spot and credit each specific dependency; but I do want to acknowledge the debt and tender my gratitude.

I. The Introduction to the Book

(Rev. 1:1-20)

A. The Commission

Rev. 1:1-3

1 The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place; he made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, 2 who testified to the word of God and to the testimony of Jesus Christ, even to all that he saw.

3 Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of the prophecy, and blessed are those who hear and who keep what is written in it; for the time is near.

John begins by establishing the authority of his book. As we already have noted, he does so by invoking “apocalypsis Jesu Christus which God gave to him.” We noted, too, that this phrase probably is meant to carry a double meaning: Jesus Christ is both the revealer of the revelation and the one revealed in it.

The ultimate recipients, the ones for whose benefit the revelation is intended, are Jesus’ “servants.” Here is our first reference to Christians, or the church; such references constitute a very rich and important train of thought for John (and for us); we will want to give them particular notice. The Greek word could as accurately be translated “slaves”–that’s what “servants” were in those days. In John’s vocabulary a Christian is above all “a slave of Christ.” Certainly, the term is not meant to carry any implications of “involuntary servitude”; but it does suggest the quality of dedication, loyalty, and obedience that his followers owe to the Master. They have been bought at a price.

The content of the revelation is to be “what must shortly happen.” As we observed earlier, if this was meant as a calendar claim, it was a false one; those words were written in the first century to Christians of that day. However, as a basis for an eschatological stance, the words are always true and always urgent. When will the end come? John didn’t know; and Jesus, the Revealer, had said he didn’t know. But in your perpetual expectancy, you act as though it is soon; from a Christian perspective, these are things that “must shortly happen.”

The revelation comes to John by means of an “angel.” The word “angel” means “messenger,” and we ought to keep our sights on this modest definition. The imagery of wings, halos, back-ground music, and unearthly beauty is a tradition that has developed since John’s day; and indeed, we will discover in Revelation several passages expressly designed to keep angels down to the “messenger” or “servant” level. Angels do appear in the book with great frequency; but we dare not grant them any importance in and of themselves. As message bearers, their presence always should direct our attention to the message rather than to the bearer.

In receiving this revelation-message, John calls himself “Jesus’ servant John.” There is not the slightest doubt but that the author of the book was a man named John; there is nothing but doubt when it comes to identifying John. Most commentaries would spend a great deal of time in the introduction arguing about John. We choose to do it briefly here–largely because we don’t know and care only little.

The traditional understanding has been that this is the Apostle John, disciple of Jesus, son of Zebedee, brother of James. That poses some difficulties, however. Our John does not name himself as the apostle and here would have been a most logical place for him to do so. He clearly is interested in establishing the authority of his book; and to have reminded the readers of his apostolicity would have contributed to that interest. Further, our author treats Jesus, the kingdom, the nature of history, etc., out of an entirely different frame of reference than does the author of the Gospel of John; and the experts tell us that the two even write quite different styles of Greek.

But these observations are presented not so much to eliminate John the Apostle as simply to keep the question open. The important thing is that this book is presented as a revelation of Jesus Christ and has been accepted by the church as such. Only asking whether what Revelation tells us about Christ jibes with what we know of him otherwise can test the claim. Having the identity of the human author would be of no help on that score; the book does not consist of historical report, so there is no relevance to the question of his being an historical eyewitness. Either Revelation carries its own authority (with the author named simply “John”) or else it carries no authority at all; the identity of the author wouldn’t change anything. In many cases we want to know the identity of the author for the light it would throw on the circumstances of the book’s being written; but in this case we already are much more certain regarding those circumstances than we have any hope of becoming in regard to the identity of the author. He is John; that’s as much as we need to know.

John says that he has “borne witness to the word of God and to the testimony of Jesus Christ.” Both “bear witness” and “testimony” reflect the same Greek root martyr. John uses it here in reference to himself and to Jesus; a bit later he will use it in reference to Christians generally. It is one of his key concepts–and one, along with “slaves,” to go into our collection headed “What does it mean to be a Christian?”

The word will be recognized as the source of our English word “martyr”; yet the translators are correct, the Greek word means “witness” or “testimony.” But the English word means “one who is killed because of his faith”; how did we get from the one meaning to the other? The answer seems plain: time was that, when a Christian made his good witness for Jesus Christ, he was very likely to get himself killed in consequence. As a result, the meaning of the word gradually slipped off from the person’s witness and onto the fact of his getting killed.

For the Greek of Revelation, the translators are correct in going for “witness”; but we need only to note with what consistency John mentions death in close proximity to his word martyr, and it is evident that the slippage already has started and the word must be allowed to point both ways at once. For John, then, martyr denotes a quality of “witness” that is so deep and dedicated that the testifier is willing to face death for the sake of it. John is clear that a primary call of the Christian is to be a “martyr”–not necessarily to be killed but to make the witness that risks it. We will see, too, that John’s use of the term suggests that this witness goes beyond simply talking to others about Jesus to include living the sort of life that demonstrates that one is his slave.

John here uses the phrase “the testimony of Jesus (martyria Jesu)”; it becomes a specialized term to which he returns time and again. It seems to carry a double meaning: It can refer to the testimony Christians make to Jesus, the testimony that he is Lord, Savior, etc. However, it can also refer to a testimony he himself made (or makes). Jesus, too, is a witness–and what he witnesses to is the coming of the kingdom of God. These two interpretations of martyria Jesu are different but they are not in conflict; when we witness to Jesus as the Eschatological One, we also are witnessing to the kingdom to which he witnessed; one way we witness to him is by joining him in his witness. John will use the phrase to carry all these meanings-and likely does so here.

And again, “the hour of fulfillment is near.”

B. The Greeting

Rev. 1:4-8

“Blessed is the one who reads … ” is a beatitude couched in the same terminology as Jesus’ beatitudes of the Sermon on the Mount. Seven of them appear scattered throughout Revelation. This “seven” may be accidental–but then again, it may not be. (By the way, if the message of this book is that the world will end in the last quarter of the twentieth century, what does John have in mind in calling first-century Christians to “heed” or “keep” it?)

4 John to the seven churches that are in Asia:

Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, 5 and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the first-born of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.

To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, 6 and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.

7 Look! He is coming with the clouds;
every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him;
and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.
So it Is to be. Amen.

8 “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

Asia Minor (see the map). There is not the slightest doubt that these were actual, down-to-earth Christian gatherings that John knew well and with whose people he was entirely familiar. John is writing to them, and there is nothing to indicate that he ever had any other readers in mind.

Before long, John’s book will become quite esoteric–peopled with angels and demons, moving from heaven to hell, describing strange and incredible events–but it opens in the midst of ordinary, mundane reality: a leader of the first-century church writing to the congregations he probably had helped organize and of which he was in charge. This link with actuality, this anchor into normal history, is a vital orientation for understanding the book as a whole. There is no evidence at all to indicate that John intends these as anything except the actual congregations he names–not periods of world history or anything of the sort. When John speaks plainly, read him plainly; we will have problems enough when the going does get rough.

John greets his churches in the name of God. In so doing, he recognizes the basic “threeness” of God–although we should be aware that he was writing before the church had developed anything like the formal theological definition we call “the trinity.” The titles he gives to the “persons” of God are of particular significance; consider that John is here introducing some of the major characters of his drama.

God the Father he calls “who is and who was and who is to come…” Primarily, of course, this is an affirmation of God’s lordship over all of history–present, past, and future (which is John’s particular interest). Also, it emphasizes the “comingness” of God, the fact that always there is more to be expected from him than what we have experienced thus far (another of John’s particular interests). But still another meaning may be involved as well. The God of the Old Testament bore the name “Yahweh.” It was derived from the root “to be,” and in Exodus 3:13-14 is interpreted as meaning “I am,” or “I am who I am.” Now John adopts the ancient “to be” name of God but suggests that, under the revelation that has come in Jesus Christ, the name of God must be expanded to become three-fold (a good, God number, recall) and incorporate the past and the future of “was” and “comes” as well as the present of “I am.” John’s is a bold and thought-provoking stroke.

God the Holy Spirit John apparently refers to as “the seven spirits who are before his throne.” This, also, may be a brand-new usage (John is nothing if not original); at least we are not at all accustomed to hearing the Holy Spirit referred to in the plural. And yet the way John uses the concept here and elsewhere strongly indicates that it is the Holy Spirit he has in mind. He seems able to treat the Spirit as either singular or plural–or both. And he may be onto a very important insight.

When referred to in the singular, it is, of course, the unity, the oneness, of the Spirit that is affirmed; there is but one Spirit of God. However, when referred to in the plural, an equally important truth about the Spirit is affirmed: he is not confined to one place at one time and one mode of operation. His oneness is not a limitation as ours is or even as the oneness of the historical Jesus was. The Spirit is more than and can be other than just speaking in tongues, or physical healing, or strange miracles. He is present and active not just among certain groups within the church or only within the church itself. He is singular, but he acts plural. And if plural, the only option is that he be a “seven.” The Holy Spirit is completeness, harmony, order, and integrity; he is God.

(In this whole matter, John may be thinking the thoughts of his progenitors after them. Throughout the Old Testament, the Hebrew word for “God” actually is a plural form.)

Jesus Christ comes last because John wants to give him particular emphasis; and I he titles are of particular significance. They form a three-fold sequence (Jesus also rates a God number) of which the sequence is as important as the titles themselves.

Jesus is, first, “the faithful witness (martyr).” This, I believe, is the only place in Scripture that such a title is ascribed to him; but it is as significant as any other. Jesus did maintain his faithful witness to the coming kingdom of God even unto death–death on a cross He was an authentic martyr; and this title describes his career during his public ministry, up to and including the crucifixion.

But because Jesus was faithful in his martyr-witness, God crowned it with a resurrection; so Jesus is also, John tells us, “the first-born of the dead.” That term “first-born” clearly implies that others are to follow in consequence of Jesus’ being born from the dead; Jesus’ experience is not to be understood as his alone but as involving his followers as well. Although this relationship is specified only in this second title, other references make it plain that John understands it so regarding all three. Jesus was the faithful witness, but his followers are called to be faithful witnesses with him. If he is the first-born from the dead, they are to be the latter-born.

In consequence of his resurrection, John says in the third place, Jesus is “ruler of the kings of the earth.” Jesus is Lord. Note the linkage between the three titles: each is dependent upon those that preceded it; each points to the one that follows it. Notice, also, that John says Jesus is ruler of the kings of the earth, not that he some day will become such. Yet when we get into John’s account, the evidence would all seem to point the other way. “The kings of the earth”–who, we will see, represent earthly power and authority, militarism, exploitation, and repression–form a clique which plays a very major role in John’s story; we will want to keep an eye out for them. After all, they did manage to execute Jesus; and John portrays them as playing bob with humanity and the church-even challenging God himself. How can John say that Jesus is their ruler?

We are here at the heart of John’s message, particularly as he intended it for the seven churches. It is this: things aren’t what they seem! From everything the seven churches could see (and most of us can see) it appears clear that “the kings of the earth” are where the action is; theirs is the clout that makes things happen; theirs are the actions determining the course of history. That we buy this view of things is confirmed by the assumption of contemporary Christian activism that, if things are going to be changed at all, they will have to be changed there. All our efforts are directed at influencing “the kings of the earth”–with very little to show in the way of accomplishment. (With all his talk about the kings of the earth, John gives not the slightest hint of any Christian call to be out trying to influence them–either to change or to subvert them. John, rather, little more than stands around and watches them fall to pieces from their own internal weakness.)

No, things are not what they seem! Contrary to their own inflated opinion, that crew does not hold the reins of history. John’s very first notice of the kings of the earth is to proclaim that they have a ruler, they are being ruled. That ruler–because he is also the martyr-witness who has been born from the dead–already has won the decisive victory and established his control. Recall the pattern we described earlier: God’s is real power clothed in apparent powerlessness; Evil’s is apparent power which is really powerlessness. Things are not what they seem! Jesus is Lord–and that not only of us slaves who accept his lordship but of everyone else, up to and including the kings of the earth.

Although it is not said here, the pattern still holds: the things these titles say of Jesus are, each in its own way, reiterated in the experience of the Christian. Because he is ruler, we, in some sense, are too. We no longer have to be ruled by the kings of the earth and can’t be forced to accept their premise that what they control constitutes the power of history.

“Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the first-born of the dead, and ruler of the kings of the earth”: who ever has spoken more of the truth about him in fewer words?

John proceeds to dedicate his book to this Jesus Christ, ascribing praise to him particularly for what he has done in behalf of John and his readers. It was in giving himself on the cross that he demonstrated his love and won for them their freedom. He has made (not will someday make but already, in his death and resurrection, has made) of them a royal house of priests–and it is here, rather than with “the kings of the earth,” that true royalty resides. The reference is to Exodus 19:6, where the promise is in the future tense and addressed to those who made the covenant at Sinai. John, no doubt, means to suggest that, through Jesus Christ, God’s promises to Old Testament Israel are being fulfilled in the new Israel of the Christian church. Elsewhere, also, John calls the Christians “priests.” Fundamentally, a priest is one who has been set aside for the service of God. This likely is all that John intends; he never gives any indication that he values cultic, liturgical, or sacramental modes of thought; and indeed, he specifically cuts the temple out of his New Jerusalem.

We need to make some explanation of the phrase “forever and ever” so that we can use it later. The translation–demanding, as it does, the sense of endlessness–is not wholly accurate; the literal reading is “aeons of the aeons.” Now in most cases–as here–the implication of endlessness undoubtedly is appropriate. But we will find some instances in which the more literal understanding, namely that of a very long yet limited period of time, is called for. We need to keep the language free to express what the Greek actually says.

Rev. 1:7-8, returning to John’s prime theme, proclaims Christ in his “soon-corning.” Although his “comingness” is a constant quality in Christ, here the reference more specifically is to his parousia–the very event of his eschatological arrival. John will continually point to this event, announced here for the first time, and the description of it will mark the turning point of his book.

Parousia is the ordinary Greek term for a “coming,” or “advent”–but it comes to be applied to the eschatological arrival of Christ that we commonly call “the second coming.” But not just any coming in anywhere qualifies as a parousia; the Greek word carries specific connotations that can be helpful to us. A parousia is an entrance that immediately changes the situation into which the entrance is made. While the teacher is out of the room, a great, wild eraser fight gets going. When she steps back in, that’s a parousia! Have you ever seen an eraser stop in mid-air? (Note that, although the word eschaton (the end) has not at all the same meaning as the word parousia [a coming], in Christian eschatology the one event is understood as the sign of the other. The two terms get used on an exchange basis, if not synonymously.)

The dominant theme of this present treatment of the parousia is its universality. Christ’s appearance shall be of decisive effect for everyone–not just those who await and desire it, John specifies, but even those who are so opposed to the presence of Christ that they took him out of the picture in the first place.

We already have said something about “universalism” (see above) and now need to say more. We are going to take special note of each of John’s universalistic statements as we come to them; but we are not going to comment upon the overall character of his “universalism” until we have all the evidence in hand and can address the matter as a whole. However, we need to keep open minds and be aware that calling a text “universalistic” can suggest any one of a number of things. It could denote any of the following:

1. that the gospel of Christ is intended for all men, depending only upon whether they choose to accept it;
2. that God’s action through Jesus Christ will be of decisive effect for all men–not necessarily implying that it will be of the same effect for all;
3. that God will save all men, whether they make any acknowledgment of Jesus Christ or not;
4. that, there being no ill effect in failing to acknowledge Christ, at the end it will become apparent that, in their own ways, all actually have acknowledged him and been saved;
5. that, even after death, in spite of and even through God’s just punishments, the way still is open for men to repent, acknowledge Christ, and be saved–and thus there remains the possibility that all will choose to be saved.

It quickly will become apparent that John has no use for the universalism of Nos. 3 and 4. We will now begin sorting out his texts regarding the other three possibilities. The present passage affirms at least No.2. Whether it intends to suggest anything more depends upon one’s reading of the phrase “all … will wail.” That could mean that some people will be lamenting the crucifixion out of their love for Jesus, and others, unrepentant, simply because they will be punished for having killed him. However, it could as well mean that all had come to heartfelt repentance over Jesus’ death and out of a love toward him. The phrase itself comes from Zech. 12:9-10; there it explicitly is not applied to all peoples–but it does just as clearly denote true repentance and love.

It would be unwise to try to draw a firm conclusion on the basis of this one verse; so leave the matter open and hold this passage to go along with many others to come.

In Rev. 1:8, God enters the scene to affirm what has just been said about the coming of Jesus. He takes as title the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, a way of saying, “I am the Lord of all and cover the whole.” It should be noted that elsewhere John ascribes this same title to Jesus; he never allows any distinction of status or honor between God the Father and God the Son. Also, there appears again the threefold title of the God who is, who was, and who comes. The placement of this allusion to the coming of God likely can be taken as an indication of John’s understanding that the parousia of Christ is the coming of God; when Christ comes, he is Immanuel (“God with us”).

C. John and the Revealer

Rev. 1:9-20

9 I, John, your brother who share with you in Jesus the persecution and the kingdom and the patient endurance, was on the island called Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. 10 I was in the spirit on the Lord’s day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet 11 saying, “Write in a book what you see and send it to the seven churches, to Ephesus, to Smyrna, to Pergamum, to Thyatira, to Sardis, to Philadelphia, and to Laodicea.”

12 Then I turned to see whose voice it was that spoke to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, 13 and in the midst of the lampstands I saw one like the Son of Man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash across his chest. 14 His head and his hair were white as white wool, white as snow; his eyes were like a flame of fire, 15 his feet were like burnished bronze, refined as in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of many waters. 16 In his right hand he held seven stars, and from his mouth came a sharp, two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining with full force.

17 When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he placed his right hand on me, saying, “Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, 18 and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades. 19 Now write what you have seen, what is, and what is to take place after this. 20 As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands: the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches.

Everything thus far has been prelude–although not by that token waste motion. John has been about the crucial work of defining his key concepts, setting his major themes, and getting us oriented for the book proper. It is most appropriate, then, that that book proper open with a scene in which the revealing Christ comes to John with his revelation.

The suffering and the sovereignty–we end-time Christians are caught between these two, we live out of a strange mixture of the two (as Jesus himself did). We usually think of the two as contradictory and incompatible–and yet we do experience both, and both together. Yes, in Christ we do know at least moments of sovereignty, times when we are on top of things. Yet there is always the suffering–so inextricably mixed in that there is no way to get the one without taking the other. And when, in our “celebrations,” we try to pretend that things are otherwise, to act as though life is endless joy and gaiety, we know we are faking it. Yes, there is the suffering. Nevertheless, we know that, in Christ, suffering is never just suffering; there are elements of sovereignty, of victory over it even while hurting under it.

Always, in every experience, the suffering and the sovereignty. In some ways, life would be more manageable, easier to cope with, if it were one or the other–or at least if they were separated so that we could know which we were supposed to be doing at any given moment, suffering or reigning. But no, they come in, under, and through each other. And the only thing that can hold them together–rather, the only thing that can hold us together under the tension is John’s third factor, the patient endurance, the steadfastness, of Jesus. Time and again, we will discover, it is this to which John calls his readers; it becomes one of his most consistent themes. From Jesus they must learn and by Jesus they must be enabled to hang in, hold on, and bear up. It is perhaps the Christian’s greatest need–the patient endurance of Jesus.

And this emphasis, in itself, leads one to suspect that the reiterated proclamation, “He is coming soon,” was never meant as a guarantee that it will all be over tomorrow. The two ideas belong together–just as we read both from the same chapter of Revelation. With his help we can endure–but, even so, come, Lord Jesus!

The one John meets in this scene is hard to pin down; he defies description, is too big for words. But where the meeting takes place is easy; it can be located on the map. Hear what John is saying as he works to anchor his celestial visions into this worldly, first-century Asia Minor; it is important to his purpose.

He was on Patmos (see map), he tells us, because he had preached God’s word and–as every Christian is called to do–had borne his martyria Jesu, the martyr-witness that both testifies to Jesus and joins him in his witness. The assumption usually is made that John had been indicted by the state and was under detention in a penal colony on Patmos, doing forced labor in the mines. That conjecture may be correct; but note well, there is nothing of this in the text. We are in trouble when we start taking our conjectures as facts and then make of them a principle of interpretation.

In this case, the line of error goes so: John was arrested and imprisoned by the Roman state (the text does not say this). John’s readers of the seven churches were under pressure from the Roman state to participate in Caesar worship (there is no text indicating this). The beast-riding whore of Rev. 17 is the Roman state (this will take more discussion but probably is not the case). The book of Revelation is basically a treatise on Christ and the state, with particular reference to the Roman state (it isn’t so!). Yes, the state does figure in Revelation, in such symbols as “the kings of the earth,” but always in general rather than specifically Roman terms and never as a major focus. So don’t let John be captured by the current tendency to see the state as the focus of all evil.

“I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day”: this is the one and only reference in Scripture to the fact that Christians had made Sunday their day of worship–not that it hadn’t happened earlier but that there just hadn’t been occasion for saying so. John was “in the Spirit” (in the singular). That the voice is “like a trumpet” may indicate that it signals the beginning of the end; in John (and the Bible generally) trumpet calls are used to announce decisive moments. The seven churches to which the revelation is addressed are named specifically. A look at the map will indicate that the order marks the loop John normally would take in visiting his churches or a messenger take in circulating the scroll. That John is to write on “a scroll” suggests that the letters were circulated not separately to the individual churches, but all together, as they presently are in the book.

Among “seven golden lampstands” the Revealer takes his place; and these, we are told, represent the seven churches. Lamps, of course, are meant to give light; and the reference, most likely, is to the church’s role as martyr-witness. The lamp thus constitutes a very good symbol for the church, and John will use it that way again elsewhere.

That Christ the Revealer is described as “one like the son of man” is important. The phrase comes from Dan. 7:13, where it identifies an eschatological figure who comes “with the clouds of heaven.” That John here specifically applies the term to Jesus makes it as much as certain that, when he uses the phrase again at a later point, he still has Jesus in mind. The subsequent description is constituted from Old Testament allusions; and no matter how the imagery affects our modern sensibilities, it is intended to communicate great beauty and glory. Try reading it through the eyes of biblical man rather than your own.

In his right (his dominant) hand, he held “seven stars,” which, we are told, are the “angels” of the churches, their heavenly messenger-representatives. John has his point covered two ways. When Christ is thought of as a presence on earth, his place is among the lampstands of the churches. When he is thought of as a being in heaven, he has the churches’ angel-telephone right in his hand. Either way, Jesus is with his church and never away from it. This is a precious thing for end-time, suffering-sovereignty Christians to know–ourselves as much as those of the Asia Minor congregations.

“From his mouth came a sharp, two-edged sword.” That is one it would be good for us to know, whether we think it precious or not. It symbolizes the power of judgment–and it belongs. The historical Jesus demonstrated it. Used as he used it, it is entirely consistent with his love, grace, goodness, and mercy–is in fact a necessary concomitant of these. Discipline, chastisement, and judgment are very much a part of John’s picture of Jesus; if they won’t fit into yours, it’s because yours isn’t a picture of the real Jesus. Consider, too, that that “sword-tongue” goes back to Isaiah 49:2, where it belongs to the suffering servant of Yahweh. It can represent the stroke of sharp discrimination between truth and falsehood rather than simply slaughter and punishment.

As a fringe benefit, we have here a caution against simple-minded literalism. In verse 16, Jesus has a sharp two-edged sword for a tongue; in verse 17, he speaks–a neat trick indeed. Then “he placed his right hand on me”–the same hand that already had seven stars in it. Obviously, John does not intend that his images be interpreted simple-mindedly.

As Jesus comes to the Revelator, the very first words he speaks are, “Do not be afraid.” That’s just like Jesus–just what he did speak in Palestine, just what he speaks to us, just what end-time Christians need to hear.

“I am” the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.” The Revealer’s introductory words are crucial ones. They present the theme of “life and death,” an important aspect of John’s symmetrical method and a most pervasive theme of Revelation as a whole.

Jesus is “the living one,” and it is his resurrection that qualifies him as such. To call him “the living one” says much more than that he simply is one who is alive–a number of us might qualify on that count. No, John is thinking in terms of the quality of life; we can outline the structure of his thought, which is merely touched upon here but developed further as the book proceeds.

“First-order life” is that quality of natural life that we all enjoy as a matter of course. It probably should be listed on the side of the Good, but it has no moral significance in itself. That a person is alive is no indication that he is good or approved of God; good people and bad people, believers and unbelievers: share this quality of life without distinction. Just so, “first-order death,” although it is a counterpart to be listed under the Bad, is equally devoid of moral significance. Biological death comes to good and bad alike and apparently at random; bad people often live long, and good people often die young. Normally, the simple fact that a person has died says nothing one way or the other about the state of his faith and morals. Because they are of this neutral, chance character, John does not attach any great significance or give particular attention to life and death on this level. For example, he does not–as many thinkers do–see the moment of first-order death as marking either the ultimate consummation of the Christian’s beatitude or the ultimate loss and prohibition of the same for the nonbeliever. For him, physical death is a comparatively minor transition.

What truly interests John is “second-order LIFE” and “second-order DEATH”–matters of totally moral significance. Here is a quality of LIFE that has nothing of death or “dyingness” about it. Such is not the case with first-order life; there, the moment of birth also marks the onset of deterioration, gradual death. And not only from a biological standpoint–our experience of life inevitably includes as well the deterioration and death of family relationships, other social relationships, the relationships of society itself; we often witness and sometimes experience a dying of morals and spirit. As the suffering and sovereignty are completely intermixed, so are life and death; for us, life is three parts death.

But John knows a quality of LIFE that has nothing of death about it–marked, therefore, he tells us later, by the total absence of tears and death and mourning and crying and pain. It is life, life, life–all life–nothing but LIFE! And once one enters this LIFE, he is totally and forever immune to the further threat of any sort of death. For John, the way to this LIFE–the only way to it–is resurrection. When, in his first appearance and speech in Revelation, Jesus says, “I am the living one,” he actually is proclaiming: “I am the source of LIFE; it is in me–and only in me–that true, second-order LIFE is to be found; I am the LIVING one!” And it is because he was dead and now is alive for evermore that he qualifies as the living one; it was his death-and-resurrection that did it.

Consequently, it follows in John’s thought, for us to be resurrected in Christ and with Christ is the one way for us to enter LIFE. I am sure John would not deny that, through Christ, one can begin to taste and experience second-order LIFE even in the midst of first-order life-and-death. Nevertheless, his main thrust is toward the total experience of LIFE that comes only upon a resurrection from the dead–and this, in turn, comes only through him who is “first-born from the dead” and into him who is “the LIVING one.” For John, LIFE does not come as an evasion of death but as a going through it and coming out victorious on the other side. In this regard, it will be important to keep an eye on John’s use of the concept “resurrection.” Consistently, for him, it denotes this graduation into LIFE; he would never speak of a resurrection to judgment,” “the resurrection of the unjust,” or anything of the sort.

It is not mentioned here, but later John will complete his symmetry by speaking of second-order DEATH. It is death that carries total moral significance. The counterpart >of LIFE, it is an experience constituted of nothing but deterioration, damnation, tears, mourning, crying, and pain; it is death with nothing of life about it.

Because Jesus is “the LIVING one” who was dead but now is alive for evermore, he also can say, “I have the keys of death and Hades.” “Hades,” here, is not to be equated with what we normally call “hell.” “Hades” is a Greek concept denoting merely “the realm of the dead.” In this reference, then, death represents not so much an individual experience as an active power. “Death and Hades” signifies, therefore, “death and all that goes with it”–all the deterioration, brokenness, pain, and tears to which we already referred. John regularly presents “Death and Hades” as a pair–one of man’s most fearful enemies.

But Jesus holds their keys. The intended picture is probably that of a jail cell. Through his resurrection, Jesus got the power over them, and they came under his charge. What freedom they still enjoy is at his sufferance; and when the right time comes (which isn’t quite yet), he has everything necessary to lock them up and throw those keys far, far away. The important thing to note is that these words portray a victory won in the past but finally to be worked out at some point in the future. Yet certainly nothing like a new victory is called for. This is John’s picture throughout. Death and Hades are still around (as we can well attest); but Jesus, even now, is Lord; he holds the keys. Things aren’t what they seem!

Copyright (c) 1974