"The Nature of the Beast" (Revelation 13:1-18)

From Do-Gooder to Tyrant

I remember a boy from fourth grade, Kevin, who was something of a teacher’s pet. When the teacher needed a volunteer to run an errand, Kevin was always first to raise his hand. When the class reviewed the answers to a test or an assignment, Kevin rocked in his seat with excitement, like a soda bottle about to explode, doing all he could to keep himself from blurting out the answers before the teacher called on him. As much as I might poke fun at Kevin in these memories, the truth is, he was a great student and a kind, responsible human being.

And then one day…he was assigned the role of Hall Monitor. Suddenly, the Kevin we all knew and loved (and poked fun at), disappeared. Gone was the do-gooder. In his place stood a tyrant. As a Hall Monitor, Kevin terrorized the school, writing up his fellow students for the most minor of infractions. He watched the halls like a hawk, and his cry was heard constantly: “Walk, don’t run—walk!” And, “On the right side—I said, ON THE RIGHT!” And, “Do that again, and I’ll call the principal!”

Needless to say, Kevin didn’t last long in the role. Doubtless he had noble intentions of ridding the hallway of all violations and misbehavior. But that bright orange Hall Monitor’s belt-and-sash had transformed him. The power had gone to his head. No longer did he treat his classmates as fellow humans, culpable of things like forgetting the rules or impatience or youthful excitement. Now he treated them as objects of his control, elements of a chaotic world that needed to be brought under his iron fist. 

Good Intentions, Bad Outcomes

What is it, exactly, that transformed Kevin from do-gooder to tyrant, from kind to controlling?

What is it that leads people with good intentions to do bad or harmful things?

You’ve probably heard about Facebook’s and Google’s recent legal troubles. Despite having internal research that suggested their products are addictive and potentially harmful, especially to teenagers and children, they brushed this evidence under the carpet and didn’t make any changes to address the issue. Later, internal documents were leaked, showing that Facebook and Google were well aware of the potential harm their products could cause. One internal report plainly concludes: “We make body image issues worse for one in three girls.”

Many Facebook and Google employees are proud of the work they do for their companies. As pioneers on the frontier of technology, they create new ways for people to connect with one another—that’s a noble venture, right? And yet many of these employees remained tight-lipped and said nothing when they learned about the addictive and potentially harmful effects of their products. Why? In a word: money. They were so wrapped up in the pursuits of their companies, who were so wrapped up in the pursuit of profit, that they chose to ignore these mental health concerns in order to maximize the bottom line. And the employees who initially indicated qualms or concerns were routinely bullied or pressured into silence, threatened with exclusion and termination.

The circumstances in this case are a bit more complicated than in the case of Kevin, but the dynamic is ultimately the same. Just as that bright orange belt-and-sash transformed Kevin from a do-gooder into a tyrant, so a Meta or Google name-badge transformed many conscientious employees from concerned to complicit, from honest and principled to silent and passive. 

But what, exactly, accounts for this transformation? According to our scripture today, it’s just “the nature of the beast” to make good people do bad things. Let’s read on to learn more….

The First Beast

1 And I saw a beast rising out of the sea, having ten horns and seven heads; and on its horns were ten diadems, and on its heads were blasphemous names.

Last week John shared a vision in which the collective martyrdom of the church—represented by two “witnesses” who were killed and then raised to life—led to the repentance of the world and the kingdom of the world being transformed into the kingdom of God (Rev 11). Right after that, however, John begins to share a different vision. And in my opinion, this point is crucial. Revelation is a compendium of visions. Some commentators have likened it to one of those Russian dolls, where smaller and smaller figurines are nestled inside one another. In other words, the visions of Revelations circle back on one another, providing more and more detail on the same event—and this event is the world being transformed into the kingdom of God.

In John’s current vision (which begins in Revelation 12), a dragon that represents Satan makes war against God in heaven. And remember, heaven here represents ultimate reality—what is real and true, despite any appearance to the contrary here on earth. Satan loses this war in heaven—and in a way that might surprise you. It is the martyrs, the Christ-followers who “did not cling to life even in the face of death,” who defeat Satan by “the blood of the lamb” (Rev 12:11). The message is loud and clear. The blood that wins the war for Christ is not the blood of the enemy, but the blood of the one who insists on loving others to the end. Put simply: Love wins. Not violence. Not power. Love.

But the vision continues in today’s scripture, because Satan falls from heaven to earth. Which is to say, now we’re seeing things not as they really are, but as they appear in our world. And the vision of things here on earth begins with a beast of ten horns and seven heads. We’ll find out more about this beast momentarily, so let’s read on….

 2 And the beast that I saw was like a leopard, its feet were like a bear’s, and its mouth was like a lion’s mouth. And the dragon gave it his power and his throne and great authority.

The imagery of a leopard and a bear and a lion are a clear allusion to a vision that Daniel has in Babylon, where a lion, bear, leopard, and fourth beast emerge from the sea, one after the other. In Daniel’s vision, the four beasts represent four different empires—probably Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome (Dan 7). In John’s vision here in Revelation, the four beasts are combined into one, perhaps signifying that Rome is the fulfillment of what an empire is. It is, to date, the empire par excellence. And John explains that its power derives the dragon, which is to say, Satan. Which is another way of saying, Rome is not the true enemy. The emperor, the senators, the centurions—they are not evil or bad people themselves; they are under the spell of the dragon.

 3 One of its heads seemed to have received a death-blow, but its mortal wound had been healed. 

Each head of the beast represents a Roman emperor, we’re told later in the vision (Rev 17:9-10). Many scholars point out that, because of other clear references to Nero that we see in Revelation, this mention of a death-blow to one of the heads, which has since been healed, may refer to an ancient Roman urban myth that Nero did not really die when he appeared to die. (Sort of the ancient equivalent to our mythology of Elvis today.) Whispers and rumors circulated for some time after Nero’s death that, actually, he was still alive and would come back to reclaim the throne before long. Some scholars go further to say that this death-blow imagery is meant as a parody—a purposefully poor imitation—of Jesus, the slaughtered-yet-victorious Lamb. In other words, Nero is but a poor pretender to the throne on which Jesus actually sits.

In amazement the whole earth followed the beast—that is, the Roman empire. 4 They worshiped the dragon, for he had given his authority to the beast, and they worshiped the beast, saying, “Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?”

To be clear, when John says that the whole earth worships the dragon, he does not mean that they literally worship Satan. They do not bow down before carved idols of Satan or anything like that. Think instead of Jesus in the desert, when he is tempted by Satan. Satan shows him the kingdoms of the world and says, “all this authority…has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours” (Luke 4:8).  This temptation that Jesus resists, is the very same temptation to which the world falls, again and again and again. Every empire that has been and every empire that will be, falls for this temptation. It is the temptation toward power, toward control, toward getting your way no matter what. Notice the words of the world when they worship the beast: “Who can fight against it?” Who, in other words, is as powerful, as controlling, as dominating as this beast? This worship of the beast—this worship of Rome—was ubiquitous in the Roman empire, where coins featured a picture of the emperor and the words “son of God,” where sacrifices to the emperor were routinely required to enter the marketplace to buy and sell, where people regularly declared the greatness of Roman engineers, where people often trembled before the might of the the Roman military. (I wonder whether people don’t worship a similar beast today…?)

Has Satan actually been granted authority, as he has claimed? While this idea is theologically worrisome for many people, one of our Disciples forebears, David Lipscomb, argues that it is true. He says Satan’s authority goes all the way back to the garden of Eden. For when God created humanity, he charged them with responsibility and stewardship over the earth, which is to say, he granted them a portion of his own authority. But when the humans put their trust in the serpent, they gave away their authority. And so Satan’s authority is indeed genuine—not because God has given it to him, but because humanity has. What we worship, is what we give power to. When we worship the satanic fantasy of control and domination—we do not actually get the power that Satan promises. Rather we give it away. 

5 The beast—which is to say, the Roman Empire—was given a mouth uttering haughty and blasphemous words, and it was allowed to exercise authority for forty-two months. 6 It opened its mouth to utter blasphemies against God, blaspheming his name and his dwelling, that is, those who dwell in heaven. 7 Also it was allowed to make war on the saints and to conquer them. It was given authority over every tribe and people and language and nation, 8 and all the inhabitants of the earth will worship it, everyone whose name has not been written from the foundation of the world in the book of life of the Lamb that was slaughtered.

John’s vision here paints a bleak picture. Nearly everyone worships the beast—and so gives it power to wreak havoc on the earth, especially against God and “the saints” (which is to say, followers of Christ). It is crucial at this point to remember John’s preceding vision in chapter 12. Remember that, in heaven, John saw Satan defeated. That is the ultimate truth, despite the appearance of Satan’s victory here on earth.

9 Let anyone who has an ear listen:

10 If you are to be taken captive,
    into captivity you go;
if you kill with the sword,
    with the sword you must be killed.

Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints.

John doesn’t pull any punches here. He acknowledges the most difficult realities that a Christ-follower might face. He’s not saying that everyone will endure these painful consequences, but rather encouraging everyone to resist worshiping the beast—the giant machine of the Roman empire—no matter the consequences. 

The Second Beast

11 Then I saw another beast that rose out of the earth; it had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon. 

Just as the wounded but revived head (symbolizing Nero) may have provided a parody—a purposefully poor imitation—of Christ crucified and risen, we see here another beast that bears a superficial resemblance to Jesus. For this second beast has two horns “like a lamb.” But that resemblance is a lie. For it speaks with the voice of the dragon—which is to say, the voice of Satan.

12 It exercises all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and it makes the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose mortal wound had been healed. 13 It performs great signs, even making fire come down from heaven to earth in the sight of all; 14 and by the signs that it is allowed to perform on behalf of the beast, it deceives the inhabitants of earth, telling them to make an image for the beast that had been wounded by the sword and yet lived; 15 and it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast so that the image of the beast could even speak and cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be killed.

Think of this second beast as something of a cheerleader for the first beast, which is the Roman empire. The second beast is not the empire itself, but the adjacent institutions that glorify the empire and declare its glory and might. The second beast includes all the grand temples that host elaborate ceremonies for the Roman gods; and all the coliseums where gladiators fight and where the Roman army is honored and where the emperor is praised; and all the great technological accomplishments of the Roman empire, such as aqueducts and the extensive network of roads; and the Roman military, which can indeed rain fire from the heavens in the form of its archers and ballistics. All of these things inspire awe and wonder from the people, so that they take their hat off to the Roman empire, so that they pledge allegiance to the Roman empire, so that their holidays and their sacred songs and their most revered stories are all in honor of the Roman empire.

And yet notice the dark underbelly of the beasts. All those who do not get on board, who do not worship the beast, who do not feeds its insatiable appetite for power and money, are targeted, even to the point of death.

One historical point illuminates this dual dynamic of Roman glory and Roman terror. Many rulers in the Roman empire celebrated what they called the pax Romana, the “peace of Rome.” And yet, as one of Rome’s own military generals said, “If you want peace, then get ready for war.” In other words, Rome’s famous peace was just the flipside to Rome’s violence. Its glory was just a flipside to its reign of terror. As John puts it, the second beast—Rome’s cheerleader—“deceives the inhabitants of earth” (13:14). It promises peace…even as it makes war; glory…even as it brings terror on all who will not worship it; riches and luxury…even as it treats as expendable the last and the least.

 16 Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, 17 so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. 

This seems to be a specific reference to a common practice throughout the Roman empire. Whenever you went to the market to buy or sell products, you would first have to offer incense at an altar to the emperor. If you did, you would receive a mark indicating you were free to buy and sell. If you did not, you could not enter the marketplace.

18 This calls for wisdom: let anyone with understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a person. Its number is six hundred sixty-six.

This is one of the most famous lines in Revelation. Many scholars point out that when you spell out the name “Nero Caesar” using Hebrew letters, the number value of those letters adds up to “666.” Therefore, John seems to be linking the emperor Nero, who was known for his wanton cruelty and excessive indulgences, with the beast of the Roman empire—as though to say, here is how the empire shapes us, remakes us. We become what we worship. If you worship the beast, you will become beastly, just like Nero: selfish, short-sighted, impulsive, violent. 

The Beast and the Son of Man

Today’s scripture is a dense text. Personally, reading it and interpreting it has felt a little bit like trudging through mud and brambles and bushes. It’s been slow going, and there’s some slipping, and getting turned around….

So to end, I want to offer two simple conclusions that I draw from today’s scripture.

First, please note that the beast is not a person. I cannot emphasize this enough. Paul said it earlier: “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood”—which means our struggle is not against Democrats or Republicans, not against liberals or conservatives, not against Russians or Iranians, and so on, and so on—“but against…the cosmic powers of this present darkness” (Eph 6:12), which is to say, the unseen spiritual forces that grip our world and shape us and remake us. For John of Patmos, the beast’s identity is clear; the beast is empire and all the institutions that are entangled with empire. The beast is this dark gravitational pull toward power and profit, toward the promise of control. Today, we might say the beast is nations, institutions, corporations, workplace cultures, and so on. Again, the beast is not identifiable with any one person involved in these various institutions, but these collective identities all exercise power over us—luring us to worship them, to serve them in their pursuit of more, more, more.

And when we worship any of these things, when we render our faith and allegiance to them rather than to God, we give them power over us. It is for this reason that good people—and we are all fundamentally good people created by a good God, as Genesis says at the very beginning of the story—it is for this reason that good people can help build a potentially harmful platform like Facebook and Instagram; that a do-gooder like Kevin can become a tyrant; that good, law-abiding citizens can endorse a violent, terror-inducing nation like Nazi Germany. (One early Disciples leader, David Lipscomb, remarked that national identity lures Christ-followers into a very unChristlike attitude and practice, namely causing them to view other humans as enemies—as happened in the Civil War. Lipscomb contended, on the contrary, that God’s kingdom is global and knows no borders.)

The second conclusion I draw is this. The beast makes us less than human. The beast remakes us in its image: selfish, short-sighted, impulsive, violent. It is no coincidence that the counterpoint to the beast in Revelation, Jesus Christ, more than once appears “like the son of man” (Rev 1:13). Which is to say, Jesus is the true human, the one who invites us back into our full humanity. If worshiping the beast makes us beastly, then the antidote is worshiping Jesus Christ and following him. To follow Christ is to divest ourselves of all the beastly influences that might get in the way of serving God and others—whether that be a bright orange sash-and-belt or a flag or corporate name tag.

Prayer

Patient and enduring Christ,

Who loves us to death and beyond,

And whose kingdom is without end

…

Open our eyes to see 

Where the beast still prowls

In our world,

Where it hardens our hearts

And makes us think only of ourselves;

Inspire us to give our faith and allegiance

To you 

And to walk with patient endurance

In your way.

Amen.

How the Kingdom Comes (Revelation 11:1-13)

Judgment Does Not Inspire Repentance

1 Then I was given a measuring rod like a staff, and I was told, “Come and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there, 2 but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample over the holy city for forty-two months.

Most biblical scholars agree that by the time John wrote Revelation, the temple in Jerusalem had already been destroyed by the Romans. (The Roman army had besieged Jerusalem and burned the temple to the ground in 70 CE after a large Jewish revolt.) So…why is John given instructions to mark off part of “the temple of God” (Rev 11:1)? What “temple” is being referred to? In fact, it is no great mystery. Paul and Peter both refer to the church as the temple of God (e.g., 2 Cor 6:16; 1 Pet 2:4-5), meaning that just as the physical temple in Jerusalem had once symbolized God’s presence dwelling among the people, so now the church community stood as a sign of God’s presence in the world.

John’s instructions here to mark off the inside of the temple but to allow the outer court to be overrun by the nations signifies a promise to the church that while the world may oppress and persecute them, God will always dwell in their midst. Nothing can touch or violate the inner sanctuary, which is to say, God’s presence among them. 

This promise is timely. Since last week in chapter 5, when John stood in the throne room and saw the slaughtered lamb exalted as the one who would save the world, John has seen vision after vision of disaster and calamity. He’s seen the legendary four horsemen of the apocalypse, delivering war, famine, pestilence, and death (Rev 6:1-8). He’s seen followers of Christ martyred (Rev 6:9-11). He’s seen the earth on fire and the sea filled with blood and the sky darkened (Rev 8). He’s seen a plague of mutant-looking locusts with the heads of lions and mouths that breathe fire and tails that sting like scorpions, wreaking death and havoc on the world (Rev 9).

In fact, that word “plague” is telling. Do you remember another biblical story filled with plagues? With locusts and blood-filled water? With death passing over every home? Rather than communicate an exact prediction of what was going to happen in his world (in the first-century Roman empire) or in our world (two millenia later), it seems more likely that these fantastic images are meant to bring to mind an old story. The story of the Hebrew slaves in Egypt, whom God delivers to freedom after a series of plagues. John invites his audience to look all around them—to see the chaos of their own world, the Roman oppression and persecution of all who get in the way of the empire—John invites his audience to see this turmoil as the beginning of God’s deliverance. And just as in the exodus, when Hebrew homes were marked off from the angel of death who came to kill the firstborn child, so in the present time John tells his audience that no matter what happens, God is with them. The “inner temple” of God’s presence with them has been marked off and will never be breached. Persecutors can kill the body, but they can’t kill the soul. Earlier in chapters 6 and 7, John has visions that fill out this promise. He envisions many Christ-followers who lose their lives as then receiving white robes, robes which have been dipped in the blood of the lamb, and being led to “springs of the water of life,” where “every tear from their eyes” will be wiped away by God Godself (Rev 6:9-11; 7:14-17). The good news for these followers of Christ is that God will never leave their side; the suffering they endured is not in vain.

But what about the rest of the world? After all these plagues—which may be rightly interpreted as God’s judgment, although I would contend strongly that God’s judgment should be interpreted not as retributive punishment but as the natural consequences of our deeds, the fruit of our actions—after all these plagues, John tells us in Revelation 9:20,“The rest of humankind, who were not killed by these plagues, did not repent of the works of their hands….” Which fits perfectly with the Exodus story, right? After each plague, what happens to Pharaoh? His heart is hardened. There seems to be a fundamental truth here, one worth holding onto as we continue in today’s scripture. The fundamental truth is this: judgment does not inspire repentance. If anything, it seems to harden hearts.

When Healing Hurts

3 And I will grant my two witnesses authority to prophesy for one thousand two hundred sixty days, wearing sackcloth.”

4 These are the two olive trees and the two lampstands that stand before the Lord of the earth. 

These two witnesses likely symbolize the church as it bears faithful witness to the way of the slaughtered lamb. Why two? In ancient Jewish tradition, two witnesses were required to confirm the truth of an event. Thus two signifies that the church is here to confirm the truth of Jesus Christ.

5 And if anyone wants to harm them, fire pours from their mouth and consumes their foes; anyone who wants to harm them must be killed in this manner. 

Woah—that escalated quickly…. Has the church suddenly adopted a new tactic? Not love your enemies, but…kill your enemies?

Or maybe we should remember Revelation abounds in symbolic imagery. Jesus is a lamb. Churches are lampstands. Angels are stars. And so on. Here there seems to be an allusion to the prophet Jeremiah, who hears God say: “Because the people have spoken these words [against me], I will make my words in your mouth a fire and these people the wood it consumes” (Jer 5:14). In other words, the imagery of violence and terror that is attributed to these two witnesses—and thus to the church—may be read to symbolize the extreme discomfort and torment that people feel when they are confronted with their own wrongdoing or sin.

6 They have authority to shut the sky, so that no rain may fall during the days of their prophesying—this seems to be an allusion to Elijah, who prophesied a drought for three and a half years, the same amount time mentioned earlier in this chapter—and they have authority over the waters to turn them into blood, and to strike the earth with every kind of plague, as often as they desire. Again, allusions to the exodus story.

7 When they have finished their testimony, the beast that comes up from the bottomless pit—later it will become clear that this beast symbolizes the might of the Roman empire—will make war on them and conquer them and kill them, 8 and their dead bodies will lie in the street of the great city that is prophetically called Sodom and Egypt, where also their Lord was crucified. As we know, Jesus was crucified in Jerusalem, not in Sodom or Egypt. This is just another illustration of the fact that so much of Revelation is intentionally symbolic. Here the Roman empire, which crucified Jesus, is compared to Sodom and Egypt, places of injustice and oppression. 

9 For three and a half days members of the peoples and tribes and languages and nations will gaze at their dead bodies and refuse to let them be placed in a tomb; 10 and the inhabitants of the earth will gloat over them and celebrate and exchange presents, because these two prophets had been a torment to the inhabitants of the earth.

Last year, after Halloween, my brother and sister-in-law tried to limit my nephews’ intake of chocolate and candy by hiding the candy out in the garage and retrieving just a couple of pieces for each nephew after meals. They explained to my nephews that moderating their candy-intake was actually a kindness, something meant to help them. They didn’t want the boys to get stomachaches and to lose their appetite for real food. But within a few days, my brother started noticing empty candy wrappers in the living room, on the stairs, and most incriminating of all in my nephews’ bedroom. Nathan and Matthew had discovered the candy stash in the garage! When my brother moved the candy again, there was an almost violent outcry.

The point is this: trying to prevent bellyaches resulted in weeping and gnashing of teeth. Trying to help the boys “hurt” them. Just so, the witness of the church is felt as a “torment,” John says, by the inhabitants of the earth. I think of the way that some of the religious leaders grumbled and got upset when Jesus started eating with tax collectors and sinners, people who were unclean in more ways than one; for this profoundly unsettled the social hierarchy. Or I think of the way that many Judeans must have felt when they saw Jesus go to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner; was Jesus snubbing them for a known “traitor,” a person who robbed from good Jewish people and gave to Rome. Jesus was not crucified for being nice. Rather, his way of love and grace was so excruciatingly painful for some people, that the only solution was to eliminate him. 

A Twist—Egypt Delivered!

11 But after the three and a half days, the breath of life from God entered them, and they stood on their feet, and those who saw them were terrified. 12 Then they heard a loud voice from heaven saying to them, “Come up here!” And they went up to heaven in a cloud while their enemies watched them. 13 At that moment there was a great earthquake, and a tenth of the city fell; seven thousand people were killed in the earthquake, and the rest were terrified and gave glory to the God of heaven.

When God delivered the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, the Egyptians, whose hearts had been hardened, were left to mourn the many who had died. There was no redemption for those whose hearts had been hardened.

But in this particular vision, after the two witnesses—who probably symbolize the church—are raised to life and exalted with God in heaven, the world around them finally repents and gives glory to God. In other words, there’s a twist in the old Exodus pattern. The first time around, only the slaves were delivered. This time, their oppressors are delivered too! Their hearts are softened. Judgment and painful consequences, shame and loss—these things did not inspire repentance. But the faithful, loving witness of the church does. The faithful, loving witness of the church “succeed[s] where the plagues have failed.” 

If this is good news (and I think it is, supremely so!)...it is also difficult news. The point of this vision is not that Christ-followers will “be spared from suffering and death, but rather that their suffering and death itself, like that of the Jesus whom the church worships and follows, will be the ultimate prophetic sign through which the world will be brought to glorify God.” Only when the world sees the church live in imitation of its savior, living in love to the last, giving its life for others—only then does it repent. Only then does “the kingdom of the world…become the kingdom of our Lord,” as John remarks just a couple verses later (Rev 11:15).

The Martyrdom of Parenthood?

As I ponder this good but difficult news, I find myself thinking about parenthood. I can only speculate, but it seems to me that there is a sense in which parenthood is one long martyrdom, one extended experience that mirrors the role of the church in the world. At the end of the day, a parent cannot control a child, no matter how hard they try. Judgment, consequences, shame—these are all tools that they might employ to inspire change, but as we have seen in Revelation the result is often the opposite. In the end, all a parent can do is model a good and healthy way to live and hope that their child will learn. (Perhaps the parable of the prodigal son reflects this truth that parenthood is a sort of martyrdom. The loving father must watch as his younger son marches off to his own destruction, hoping against hope that he will one day return.)

I think in particular of some family friends who have a daughter who fell into a bad crowd as a teenager. The family are Christ-followers, and I know that the parents modeled love and grace for their daughter in many ways. But despite their example (and certainly despite all the rules and restrictions they might have put into place), she rebelled and made choices that brought her to a dark place. Much like the prodigal son, she woke up one day and realized she did not have to live this way. There was a better way. Over time, she has come to resemble more and more her own father and mother, as she has chosen their way of living.

And this change—this repentance, we could call it—happened not because of some punishment. Yes, her pain awakened her to some hard truths. But if it had not been for the witness of her parents—the way they had lived and modeled for her—she wouldn’t have known to choose their way of life.

And so it is that I imagine parenthood to be one long martyrdom. Perhaps for some parents it even feels spiritually like a crucifixion. Nothing you can do but model a good way. The good news for parents—and ultimately for us followers of Christ—is that this is how God’s kingdom comes. Where judgments, threats, shame, rules, and everything else fails…the patient, enduring witness to love succeeds. In the end, love wins.

Prayer

Dear Christ,

Who came to our world,

Eating and drinking with sinners,

Welcoming them home with open arms

…

Grant us the peace

To let go of our quests for control

And instead to live

In your martyrdom of love,

By which the kingdom of God comes:

Amen.

 

The Lion and the Lamb (Rev 5:1-10)

About “Heaven”

In the book of Genesis, when Jacob is on the run from his murderous brother Esau, he stops for the night in the wilderness and sleeps on a stone. You might remember what happens next. He dreams about a stairway to heaven. At the top of the stairway stands God, who promises Jacob he will be with him and bless the world through him and bring him back home one day. When Jacob wakes up, he anoints the stone on which he slept with oil and names the place, “Bethel,” which means “House of God.” He explains: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it! … What an awesome place this is! It is none other than the house of God, the very gateway to heaven!” (Gen 28:16-17). 

Now, the point of the story is not that there is a distinct portal to heaven hidden somewhere in the Judean wilderness. Jacob’s experience does not reveal a magical site like the wardrobe in C. S. Lewis’ Narnia stories, where a person can transport from this world to another. The point, rather, is precisely what Jacob says first: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it!” In biblical narrative, heaven is not another world or place to which we might escape. “Heaven” is the way things really are, even when we’re not aware of it. “Heaven” is a way of talking about the deepest reality of this world. When Jacob makes a visit to heaven in his dream, he learns about the meaning of his life in this world.

I share this as a preface, because today we move ahead in Revelation to the next major section, which is where John of Patmos has a vision of God on a throne in heaven. But everything that John hears and sees in heaven has manifestly to do with what’s happening on earth. I suggest, then, as a rule of thumb that heaven is not meant to be seen as an actual other place but rather as the way things really are. In John’s vision in Revelation, he catches a glimpse of the way things really are on earth….

Hope and History Won’t Rhyme

1 Then I saw in the right hand of the one seated on the throne—God is the one seated on the throne—a scroll written on the inside and on the back, sealed with seven seals; 2 and I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” 3 And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it. 4 And I began to weep bitterly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. 

One of the first animated films I remember seeing was The Sword in the Stone. You might recall the basic storyline, whether from that film or just from English folklore. There is an enchanted sword that is stuck in a stone, and the legend holds that whoever can pull the sword out will be the next king of England. Many strong men try to pull the sword out but cannot. Then one day a young Arthur comes along, not even knowing the significance of this particular sword, and casually pulls it out. The point is not that Arthur has some superhuman strength. Rather it is fate. He will grow into a mighty king one day. This destiny unlocks the sword from its place.

The opening section of today’s scripture describes a similar scenario. There’s a sealed scroll, and no one is able to open it. But there’s a difference between this scroll and the sword in the stone. Think about it. Pulling a sword from stone takes strength or might. Arthur draws the sword because his destiny is to become a strong and mighty king. But reading a scroll is a different task. It requires comprehension. Understanding. The inability of everyone to open the scroll is not meant to symbolize that everyone is weak, or that the scroll is bound together by some divine superglue. It symbolizes rather that no one could possibly read and understand what is written on this scroll.

When John of Patmos begins to weep bitterly, despairing that the scroll will ever be opened, his tears and anguish stand in for the tears and anguish of all Christ-followers who are living in the Roman Empire around the turn of the first century CE. They and John are weeping because their world does not make sense. Jesus announced the kingdom of God, and yet they still live in a world of persecution and oppression. Perhaps like Nico last week, they have experienced God’s love and liberation personally, but when they look upon the larger world they have trouble seeing how anything has changed. When they look upon the larger world, the way of Christ seems suddenly “weak” or “foolish.” It’s no coincidence that Paul talks about the gospel as a “mystery,” as something that doesn’t make immediate sense, as something that indeed seems “weak” and “foolish” to uncritical eyes. How is it that turning the other cheek and loving enemies is going to change things?

When the Irish band U2 wrote a song about the troubles in their own land, they gave poignant expression to the tears and anguish of John of Patmos and Christ-followers through the centuries. They titled the song “Peace on Earth,” and in it they sang: “Hear it every Christmastime / but hope and history won’t rhyme / so what’s it worth: / this ‘peace on earth’?

The Lion Roars

5 Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David…

I want to pause here in the middle of the verse because this language draws deeply from a rich tradition that would have immediately resonated with an audience familiar with the Jewish scriptures. Messianic prophecies in the Old Testament can be traced all the way back to Genesis, where Jacob’s final blessing on his twelve sons singles out Judah and anticipates his greatness and compares him to a lion. Later, the people of Israel will adopt the lion as their own image, as a mascot, so to speak. Solomon had images of lions carved into his throne (1 Kgs 10:19). Images of lions can be found adorning many ancient synagogues. 

In fact, there is a fascinating Jewish text, 2 Esdras, that is written around the same time as Revelation and contains its own prophecy about a messiah who appears as a lion. In the vision of 2 Esdras, the messiah-lion confronts an eagle, which clearly represents the Roman empire. The lion acts as a sort of cosmic judge, holding Rome to account for its deeds. Here’s just a snippet of the lion’s judgment: “[Y]ou [Rome[ have held sway over the world with great terror and over all the earth with grievous oppression, and for so long you have lived on the earth with deceit…. [Y]ou have oppressed the meek and injured the peaceable; you…have laid low the walls of those who did you no harm…. Therefore you, eagle, will surely disappear…so that the whole earth, freed from your violence, may be refreshed and relieved and may hope for the judgment and mercy of him who made it” (2 Esdras 11:40-46). After this stinging judgment, the imperious lion—untouched by the eagle—destroys it.

We can’t know for certain whether John of Patmos or his audience knew about this text. But what does seem certain is the appeal of a mighty lion that will come to the rescue and avenge the oppressed. For John and other Christ-followers living at the time—as well as for us today, perhaps—there lingers a hope that maybe the next time the messiah comes, he will operate in a different manner. The first time, he made himself vulnerable in his love, choosing to absorb suffering rather than inflict it. But the next time, we perhaps hope, he will look more like a lion. He will make the evil to feel God’s wrath; he will make the wicked pay. 

“Has Conquered”

(5) [See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David] has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.”

If John’s hopes were raised with the promise of a messiah lion, a savior who could make sense of the mess of the world by putting the bad guys in their place, by giving them a good old fashioned licking…then the words that immediately follow may have him scratching his head. Sure, there’s the language of “conquering,” which is undoubtedly what John and his contemporaries would have loved to hear—namely, the Roman empire “conquered,” subdued, defeated. But the problem is grammatical. “Has conquered.” In other words, past tense. It’s already happened.

Which brings John and all of us back to our former tears and anguish. Which brings us all back to a world that just doesn’t make sense. If God’s messiah has already conquered, then…why do we still have war? Crime? Hunger? Poverty? If God’s messiah really has already conquered the world, then maybe God could do the courtesy of telling the bad guys that they’ve been defeated and should cease their wickedness at once.

The Lion Is…a Slaughtered Lamb

6 Then I saw between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders a Lamb standing as if it had been slaughtered, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth. 

We’ve been moving really slowly through the scripture—almost a half a verse at a time. I invite you to imagine John’s experience in slow motion. First he hears about a messiah-lion arriving on the scene. His heart leaps with hope, and he begins to turn his head to look for the lion. Then he hears that the lion has already “conquered,” which plants a seed of confusion and doubt in his heart. And now, finally, he sees the Lion of Judah. Except…it’s not a lion. It’s a slaughtered lamb. Perhaps his heart falls in disappointment. Any lingering hope that the messiah Jesus will come back with a vengeance is dashed. Instead, what John sees and learns is that the way of Jesus does not change. 

Just as importantly, John sees and learns that what looks like defeat is in fact victory.

In my interpretation, this is ultimately the “content” of the scroll. That is, “love wins.” This story—this way of seeing the world—simply doesn’t compute with us who desire a strong lion. No wonder we wouldn’t be able to read the scroll. It wouldn’t make sense to us. For us, hope and history don’t rhyme. But for Jesus, the slaughtered lamb, they do. 

A Different Interpretation of History: 

Love Wins

Listen to the song that gets sung by the heavenly faithful as the slaughtered lamb, Jesus, takes the scroll.

7 He went and took the scroll from the right hand of the one who was seated on the throne. 8 When he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell before the Lamb, each holding a harp and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. 9 They sing a new song:

“You are worthy to take the scroll

    and to open its seals,

for you were slaughtered and by your blood you ransomed for God

    saints from every tribe and language and people and nation;

10 you have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God,

    and they will reign on earth.”

Like the Passover lamb that liberated and empowered the Hebrew slaves to become God’s people (cf. Ex 19:5-6), Jesus as the slaughtered lamb of God liberates followers of Christ to become part of God’s kingdom. Which is to say, he gives us eyes to see the world differently. He gives us a different interpretation of history, the right and true interpretation of history. “Love wins.” 

Remember what we observed about “heaven” earlier? Namely, that it is not necessarily a physical place but the way things really are. Well, here John sees the way things really are. The slaughtered lamb of God is the only one who is able to read and comprehend history, because only the slaughtered lamb has fully trusted in and experienced the love of God, which is stronger than death. For Christ, it all makes sense, because he sees that love endures beyond death.

The Mothers of East Los Angeles

If you still have doubts about this interpretation of history—that love wins, not power and strength—you’re not alone. I have doubts too. Almost every day, I experience a reflexive thought or feeling that glories in vengeance, in payback, in retribution, in people getting what’s coming to them. That instinct for the lion is alive and well in me. But…my faith tugs me in the direction of the slaughtered lamb. 

To close, I’d like to share a sketch of people who follow the slaughtered lamb, people who live in the kingdom of God right here, right now. In the early-to-mid 1990s, gang violence in east Los Angeles spiked considerably. In the poorest parish of Los Angeles, which also features the largest public housing complex west of the Mississippi, nearly every family had lost a child or relative to gang violence. The outside sentiment was that this problem required a real crackdown: more law enforcement, tougher police, harsher consequences. You could even consider this kind of response, “tough love.” A gesture of care toward the community through the controlled use of force.

But inside the community, many of the mothers had been participating weekly in gospel study groups where they asked questions like: “What’s going on around us? What does the gospel say about these problems? What would Jesus do in this situation?” Their answers to these questions led them in a very different direction. Away from the militant lion and closer to the slaughtered lamb. They formed a committee to respond specifically to the violence that plagued their neighborhood. And the way it worked was, whenever someone heard gunshots fired or learned of an intensifying conflict or caught wind of a planned shooting, they would alert the rest of the group, and as many as could make it to the flashpoint would march between rival gangs and armed men, pleading with them to stop killing each other. (I wonder if this isn’t what real “tough love” looks like. Doesn’t it take a whole lot more toughness and strength to love others at risk to one’s own safety than it does to act violently…?) In addition to these direct interventions, the mothers met every weekend for what came to be known as “Love Walks,” where they would walk the streets of their neighborhood and tell gang members with words and with actions—such as home-cooked food and songs—“You are all our sons. We love you. We don’t want you to kill each other.” Their Christlike response planted seeds for some remarkable transformation in the neighborhood—not only a deescalation of violence, but also an increase in communication and attention to real needs, such as employment opportunities.

John heard the heavenly faithful sing, “You have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God, and they will reign on earth” (Rev 5:10). Some people think these words refer to some distant future that will be instituted by a lion-like messiah. I believe they refer to people who follow the slaughtered Lamb right now, people who live in his kingdom at this very moment—people like the courageous mothers of east Los Angeles.

Prayer

Dear Christ Jesus,

Like John of Patmos

We look upon our world

With bafflement and despair,

Uncertain that your vulnerable love

Is the way …

Grant us eyes to see you as John did,

Not as lion but as lamb,

That we might respond to the world

With your vulnerable, enduring, conquering love.

Amen.

A Strange Conquest (Revelation 2:1-7)

Letters Against Compromise

Today’s scripture contains the first of seven miniature letters that John of Patmos—the author of Revelation—is instructed to deliver. Each letter relays a message that John claims to have received from Jesus and is addressed to a specific church in the Roman province of Asia, or what we would call Turkey today. In each letter, Jesus encourages the church, sometimes also providing warnings or reprimands and always ending with a formulaic promise that uses these or similar words: “To the one who conquers, will be given [abundant life].” (2:7, 11, 17, 28; 3:5, 12, 21).

While each letter addresses concerns specific to the church being addressed, there is a common thread tying all these concerns together. This common thread is a simple message: do not compromise. In other words, stay faithful to the way of Jesus Christ; do not water down your faith (because of social pressures or persecution) in order to fit in with the Roman culture and way of life.

The first letter, which we will read in just a moment, addresses the church in Ephesus, one of the largest cities in the Roman empire at the time. Ephesus had all the grandeur and luxuries that the Roman empire boasted: a grand amphitheatre for plays and gladiatorial games, a stadium for sports, a huge temple to the patron goddess Artemis, saunas, marketplaces, and more. Ephesus also had one of the strongest communities of early Christ-followers, who strove never to compromise to the Roman way of life. As we will hear in just one moment, Jesus praises them for not compromising…and yet he also reprimands them for the spirit in which they resist compromise. I think his message is especially instructive for committed followers of Christ today, and so I’ve handpicked it for today’s scripture. (I do encourage you to read the other letters as well in the rest of Revelation 2 and 3.)

Scripture

1 “To the angel of the church in Ephesus write: These are the words of him who holds the seven stars in his right hand, who walks among the seven golden lampstands:—Earlier in chapter one, John explains that the seven stars are the angels or messengers that correspond with the seven golden lampstands, which are the seven churches. So here John is envisioning Jesus walking in the midst of the seven churches, holding in his hand—in his care and guidance—the seven angels or messengers, that is, the spiritual leaders of these churches. 

2 “I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance. I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers; you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them to be false. 3 I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name, and that you have not grown weary. 4 But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. 5 Remember then from what you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent. 6 Yet this is to your credit: you hate the works of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate. 7 Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches. To everyone who conquers, I will give permission to eat from the tree of life that is in the paradise of God.

The Way of Rome

Rather than try to explain this passage, let me offer a story….

Nico could still remember the first time he went to the Grand Theater. He was thirteen, and an older teenage friend had invited him. He remembered the parade before the game, how trumpets and dancing accompanied the arrival of the palm branches and wreaths that would be conferred upon the victors. He remembered the presentation of statues—Mars, Zeus, Athena, and of course Artemis, the patron goddess of the city. He remembered how a detachment of soldiers, armed to the teeth, marched in stoic fashion around the theater. He remembered how there was a statue of the emperor himself, and how the wealthy sponsor of the games led the crowd in a stirring chant: “Caesar is Lord! Caesar is Lord!” 

He remembered feeling sick the first time he saw a limb dismembered from a fighter’s body. He looked away as the crowd roared its approval. They chanted, “Nika, nika!” “Win, win!” Soon, though, he was watching again. A defeated fighter was wearily grasping the thigh of his combatant, and the crowd was crying for his death. Everyone looked to the sponsor of the game, who was acting as referee. He tilted his head one way, then the other, and then finally gave the thumbs-up signal. The victorious combatant plunged his sword into the neck of the defeated fighter, killing him. Nico remembered how after that death blow, attendants entered the fighting grounds and delivered further blows to ensure that the loser was indeed dead. (The message was clear. Caesar, and anyone who acted in his name, held the power of life and death.) He remembered how the sponsor pronounced the victor a “conqueror” or niketes, and how the crowd chanted that title again and again: “Niketes, niketes!”

The first night after watching the gladiators fight, Nico could hardly sleep. With his eyes closed, his mind’s eye kept replaying the violent images of the day. Half a year later, when his friend invited him to another game, he said “Yes.” 

Soon he was learning the names of famous gladiators. What weapons they fought with. What signature moves defined them. Their rags-to-riches backstories that told how by sheer grit and willpower and strength they had risen to fame. He didn’t know at the time, but he was learning a way of life. The Roman way of life. To some it seemed callous or insensitive, but to him it seemed true. It made sense. Whoever’s strongest…gets to live. 

At the end of the day, it’s best to be on the side that’s gonna win. And so next time he attended the game, he chanted with the crowd: “Caesar is Lord. Caesar is Lord.”

The Way of Christ

But the games and the gladiators were a cold comfort to him when illness came upon his house and took both his parents. Suddenly he felt helpless. No amount of strength or grit could get him out of his grief.

Nico was a laundryperson—a smelly vocation that placed him near the bottom rung of the Roman social order. He didn’t have enough money or good heritage to earn him a place in one of the local associations or guilds. And so he didn’t really have any connections outside the laundry world. 

But shortly after his parents died, another laundry worker invited him to tag along to a local banquet. Now Nico had never been to a banquet, but this one was different. It was celebrating a man called Jesus, a man who had been crucified—and yet his followers claimed he lived. Nico went, and his world was turned upside down. Upon arriving at a modest dwelling, he was greeted with smiles and warm embraces from all sorts of people—slaves, merchants, Jews, Romans with noble family names. There in a circle, rich and poor alike sat and passed plates and bumped elbows and swapped stories. No special privileges were given to the rich or the powerful. It was surreal. A few times during the meal, someone would speak up and share a memory about this man Jesus, in whose name they would bless the meal and give thanks. Clearly this guy was the founder of the feast. Later candles were lit, and hands were washed, and songs were sung, and stories were told—personal stories about how Jesus had overcome difficulties that the people there at the banquet had faced.

The first night after that banquet, Nico closed his eyes in bed and felt…embraced. He didn’t know at the time, but he was about to learn a new, different way of life. The way of Christ. The way of love. To some it seemed weak or foolish, but to him it would come to be true. It would make sense. The embrace he felt…gave him more strength than any amount of muscle or steel did.

At the end of the day, it’s best to know you are not alone. And so, finally, one day, he confessed, “Jesus is Lord,” and was baptized in water from death to life and given a white ceremonial robe to wear.

Resisting the Nicolaitians—and Becoming Righteous

Do you know what the name Nico means? It comes from the Greek word nikao, which means “to conquer” or “overcome.” (Our brand name today, Nike, comes from the Greek word for “conquest” or “victory.”) 

As a teenager, Nico learned that victory meant power and strength. As a new follower of Christ, Nico learned that victory meant a vulnerable love that endures all things, even death. But that is not the end of Nico’s story….

In his early life as a follower of Christ, Nico learned from other Christ-followers that certain behaviors and attitudes really were incompatible with the way of Christ. So he began to withdraw from activities that had characterized his old life. He stopped attending the gladiatorial games, where he had participated in the worship of the Roman emperor and the Roman military and had slowly become desensitized to violence. He stopped making trips to the local sauna, where he had learned to see bodies as trophies that could be acquired and traded by the strong and mighty. He stopped shopping at a lot of the local markets, where he would have been required to offer incense and a pledge of allegiance to the Roman emperor. Anything that involved the worship of the Roman emperor or Roman gods challenged the way of Christ, usually by asserting that the real authority in the world was a mighty arm, whether that arm belonged to Zeus or to a human surrogate like the emperor. To put it bluntly: the way of Rome was force, whereas the way of Christ was love. Nico was learning the way of love, and so he withdrew from the Roman way of life.

Of course, there were social consequences. He endured raised eyebrows and whispered rumors. He endured the occasional taunt and even the odd threat. But these consequences were a drop in the sea next to the embrace that he felt, to the knowledge that Christ was alive and with him.

And yet…over time, Nico thought less about the embrace that had welcomed him into Christ, and more about how righteous he had become by withdrawing himself from the polluted world of Rome. This became especially apparent when a traveling band of so-called apostles traveled through Ephesus, teaching that followers of Christ could still participate in Roman festivals and events that celebrated the emperor. These traveling apostles, who were known as the Nicolaitians, preached that Jesus Christ’s salvation had to do with a person’s interior life—that is, it concerned their soul, rather than the way they lived. Therefore, they could still enjoy the Roman way of life—a way that glorified violence and lust and wealth—as long as they didn’t worship these things in their heart, as long as Jesus was enthroned in their heart.

Nico and other Christ-followers in Ephesus strongly resisted the Nicolaitians, preaching instead that Christ had called his disciples to “follow him,” to live the way he lived, even to take up the cross. They pushed back strongly against the Nicolaitians, reminding people that they could not serve two masters—in this case, Christ and Rome.

What Changes Us in the First Place?

If you’ll recall from today’s scripture, the problem with Nico and the other Ephesians is not that they are compromising to the way of Rome—on the contrary, they are steadfastly guarding against any compromise. Jesus even commends them for this. The problem is that in resisting what they are against, they have forgotten what they are for. Listen again to Jesus’ words: “But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember then from what you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand”—that is, the church in Ephesus—“from its place, unless you repent” (Rom 2:4-5).

Remember what changes Nico’s life in the first place? What, I would wager, changed all of our lives, too, in the first place? It wasn’t a vehement argument. It wasn’t a heated debate. It wasn’t some guy saying, “Come on, prove me wrong, and you’ll see I’m right.” It was love. For Nico, it was this almost mystical sense of embrace that overwhelmed his emptiness, that brought warmth to a world that had gone ice-cold. 

Notice what Jesus is saying in this message. He is not reprimanding the Ephesians for withdrawing from the Roman way of life. He’s not criticizing their rather radical stance against cultural compromise. Rather, he’s rebuking the spirit in which they do it. Remember Paul’s words? “If I speak in the tongues…of angels…if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and knowledge…if I give away all my possessions…but do not have love, I gain nothing” (1 Cor 13:1-3). From the perspective of Christ, being right can actually be wrong, if love is not the first and final word. 

In the last half-century, Christians in our nation have waged what has been called a “culture war,” fighting against a perceived threat to the Christian religion. Many battle lines have been drawn. Prayer in school. The ten commandments in public spaces. Abortion and reproductive rights. The sincerity of many of those who are fighting is not something that I would question. What could be questioned, however, is the spirit in which their fight is fought. Christians fighting in the culture wars have effectively taken up the weapons of the world, seeking to use the coercive powers of the state to get their way, when Jesus calls us away from the weapons of the world, away from the use of coercive force. Christians fighting in the culture wars have taken up bullhorns and ad-space to tell others how they’re wrong, when Jesus calls us to love others and show them by our example—by our faithful witness—the goodness of God’s way.

What It Means to Conquer

At the end of each letter in Revelation, Jesus promises abundant life to those who “conquer.” It might not be a coincidence that the first letter goes out to Ephesus, where gladiatorial games were huge, where conquering was a Roman virtue celebrated by everyone. It seems as though Jesus is inviting his followers to consider again what it means to conquer. In the gospel of John, Jesus proclaims that he has conquered the world (John 16:33)...right before he is crucified. Right before he demonstrates the depths of his love for the world.

Prayer

Lord Jesus Christ,

Who has conquered the world,

Who has conquered death—

Help us to remember your victory

In our own lives,

How your love changes everything

…

Align us evermore with your spirit,

Gentle, humble, filled with love,

Which works not out of resentment and grievance

But with grace and forgiveness

And a deep love that conquers.

Amen.