The Revelation

The Book of Revelation is weird. It can be intimidating. A lot of people don’t like it because it gives them anxiety. Usually, that’s because they were taught to focus on the wrong things. Like what does this symbol mean? Are there tanks and atom bombs in this book? Are Russia and the United States in there somewhere, and when does World War III start?

But the book is not primarily about warfare. It’s about worship. It all centers around the throne room in heaven where all the saints and angels are gathered around the Ancient of Days. So much of the dialogue is familiar to a lot of people, especially if they’ve ever listened to Handel’s Messiah.

Once you understand that the main theme is Jesus ruling and reigning in victory, the rest makes a little more sense. At least I’m not nearly as concerned about what this dragon means or that woman giving birth. All of it points to how evil is finally getting its comeuppance. All the injustice in the world is finally vindicated. There is a battle, but it’s over before it even begins. Spoiler alert: Jesus wins.

I saw a quote a while back that sums it up perfectly: Revelation wasn’t written so that we’d build bigger bomb shelters in the back yard but so we’d build bigger tables and invite our friends over for meals and tell them about Jesus. John Piper says that missions exists because there are places in the world where worship of the one true God doesn’t exist yet. Missions leads to worship when everyone on earth has heard the good news.

Revelation is a celebration of the victory that is now and not yet. It’s about a Kingdom and a rule that is now and not yet. We see it in part and in certain places, but one day everyone will see it and every eye will see Jesus whom they pierced with the nails to put Him on the cross. Every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord, whether in worship or under duress when they realize it’s too late to choose.

The enemy is a defeated foe, but he’s lashing out in his death throes, trying to take as many with him in his downfall as possible. But his time is short. All pain and suffering has an expiration date, and that date is getting closer and closer. And one day it will end. Death will end. And then real eternal life will truly start.

Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly.

I Need A Little Handel’s Messiah

I need a little Handel’s Messiah right about now.

I’m recalling a conversation with someone at my workplace revolving around the wildfires that raged through parts of East Tennessee, including Gatlinburg. The gist of the conversation is that the fires burned so hot that they literally melted the aluminum rims off the trucks and cars there.

That’s hot enough that any people caught up in it would have been incinerated.

That means that some of those missing people will never be found. There’s nothing left to find but possibly some ashes.

I can’t even begin to comprehend. I can’t begin to fathom how I’d cope if one of those missing people was one of my parents or my sister or any of my nephews or niece.

I need a little Handel’s Messiah right about now.

I need to be reminded that at the darkest point in human history, God intervened. He didn’t send a 12-step program (as good and useful as those are) or a self-help manual. He sent Himself. He sent Emmanuel, forever God is with us.

Handel’s Messiah is perhaps one of the few perfect pieces of music in existence. At times, it comes as close as these ears will ever get to heaven’s music. Plus, its straight Scripture set to music, so truly how bad can it be?

I remember a long time ago at Ridgeway Baptist Church, I was able to be a part of a choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus. I seriously doubt that it’s a mortal sin if you stay seated during that song, but once you really grasp that this Emmanuel will reign forever and ever, you just about can’t help but stand up.

The odds are very much against me making it through the entire Messiah, but I’ll get as far as I can before sleepiness takes over.

And yes, I know I am a major music nerd, but I can’t help that I love great works of art, particularly of the musical kind.