... And it is to that churning anxiety that the writer of Revelations is speaking. He is trying to reassure a community of believers scattered across what is now Turkey, who are being persecuted for refusing to bow down to an emperor who set himself up as a god, and consequently they fear for their future.
![[1] “Freya’s Tears” by Anne Marie Zilberman](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/ff6591_317fc3418d9043189eeb4686f778fa59~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_548,h_681,al_c,q_85,enc_auto/ff6591_317fc3418d9043189eeb4686f778fa59~mv2.jpg)
Revelation 21:1-6a
November 3, 2024
Dr. Todd R. Wright
A person came up to me at the YMCA pool recently and asked, “Don’t you think we are in the last days?” Usually the questions are about the temperature of the water, or the length of the pool, or can they borrow a kickboard, so this was different!
I assume she was pushed to voice this question by …
the growing violence in the Middle East;
or the destructive powers of two hurricanes to wipe out stretches of North Carolina and Florida;
or the constant refrain from the campaign trail that the nation’s future hangs in the balance.
But for all I know, her anxiety was sparked by …
a trip to the grocery store, where a fixed income doesn’t go far enough;
or yet another seasonal uptick in COVID, triggering memories of a much worse time 4 years ago when 7,019 people were dying daily in the US with a peak of nearly 26,000 two months later;[2]
or the recent deaths of Liam Payne, Kris Kristofferson, Teri Garr, or James Earl Jones.
There is never a shortage of reasons to feel like the end of the world is close.
And it is to that churning anxiety that the writer of Revelations is speaking.
He is trying to reassure a community of believers scattered across what is now Turkey, who are being persecuted for refusing to bow down to an emperor who set himself up as a god, and consequently they fear for their future.
So he talks to them in language that calms fears and promises hope, all of it rooted in a
vision of a God who will not abandon them.
It is not unlike a parent trying to soothe a child who is hungry and tired and has skinned their knee. They need comfort and compassion. They need a hug and lots of Paw Patrol band aids!
So listen to what he says to them:
First, John describes a vision of a new heaven and a new earth, for the first has passed away, and the sea was no more. That seems like a strange little detail, but it is actually a beautiful promise.
In ancient Near Eastern literature the roiling, unfathomable waters of the sea are identified with the untamed, disruptive powers of chaos. They believed the sea harbored monsters and demonic forces that threatened human existence. Job speaks of Leviathan; the psalmist wails that the waves have gone over him; and the disciples are terrified of a storm at sea, convinced they will perish. No sea means an end to chaos and danger.
And there is a personal element here, too. John is in exile on the isle of Patmos at the time of his vision. It is the choppy sea that separates him from those he loves; that forces him to encourage them from a distance; that keeps him from sharing in their joy and suffering. In the new heaven and new earth such barriers will be removed.
Second, in this new heaven and new earth, God will dwell in their midst.
Once, when Adam and Eve were first in Eden, God would walk through the garden “at the time of the evening breeze,”[3] but that closeness did not last. Sin forced a gap. Even Moses, who was on intimate terms with God, never saw God face to face. Then Jesus came and was Emmanuel – God with us – and now that happy state will become permanent. God will be as close as the neighbor down the street or your best friend is; or the people we mourn today once were.
Third, unlike the old heaven and earth, there are no tears, no death, no crying or pain.
This is good news. For it means the end of the tears of people ravaged by cancer and
grieving the death of loved ones, the heartbreak of abandonment or the sting of abuse. It means an end to drone strikes that kill military targets and innocent civilians alike; an end to suicide bombers or school shootings; to starving children, and anxious teenagers, overworked adults, and forgotten seniors. In the new heaven and the new earth, all will be at peace, all will be at rest, all with live in harmony.
It is not like that yet. The sea rages; God sometimes seems very far away; and abundant tears water the ground. But John has seen a vision of God in which God says, “See, I am making all things new,” – not someday, but now; not someplace, but here!
So what should I tell the person at the Y, the person who thinks we are in the last days?
I could quote Revelation 21 and leave it at that!
I might show her a picture I took while on vacation in Charlottesville – of a mural on the corner that includes Rita Dove’s poem, “Testimonial”. It begins, “Back when earth was new, and heaven just a whisper, back when the names of things hadn’t had time to stick … I was pirouette and flourish, I was filigree and flame. How could I count my blessings when I didn’t know their names?” And it ends, “Back when everything was still to come … I gave my promise to the world and the world followed me here.”
Then I’d want to tell her that if we are in the last days, we are safe in the hands of the one …
who promises to make everything new, replacing chaos with beauty;
who will move into our neighborhoods;
who will wipe [away] every tear!
Poets like John and Dove have given me names for these blessings; blessings that will follow us everywhere we go – from mountaintop to darkest valley, and all the way home. Amen
[1] “Freya’s Tears” by Anne Marie Zilberman
[3] Eugene Peterson’s translation of Genesis 3:8 in The Message
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