Tag: Heaven

Reasons to Look Forward to Heaven

I have never been to Disney World or Disney Land myself. I know many people who frequent these places with their families, and some are even married couples without children who contend that December is the best time to go because there’s fewer in attendance. I’ve just never been one for theme parks. I’d go farther to confess that I’ve never even been on a rollercoaster, I’m not ashamed to admit. It’s not my thing though I know many have a taste for such excitement, and that’s fine. Walt Disney conceived an excellent notion with his films and animations and would bring it to life in his theme park despite not living to see it come to fruition. On its opening day in 1955, Disney said,

To all who come to this happy place; welcome. Disneyland is your land. Here age relives fond memories of the past…. and here youth may savor the challenge and promise of the future. Disneyland is dedicated to the ideals, the dreams and the hard facts that have created America … with the hope that it will be a source of joy and inspiration to all the world.

 As marvelous and wonderful as I hear Disney is, the sad thing is that it doesn’t last long enough for those who desire to be there. You can always go back, but you’ll find yourself leaving again. It’s a vacation spot. It’s not where you live. It may seem to some as heaven on earth, but it’s not heaven at all, because of the time restrictions and a few missing elements. It may be the happiest or most magical place on earth, but it only pales in comparison to the ideals to which it aspires. Heaven is that place, and it’s where we get to spend, not a week only to leave, but an eternity.

Reasons Examined 

There’s certainly a lot of material that could be studied in Revelation 21–22, such as renewed creation. Still, I’d instead look at reasons we Christians look forward to heaven regardless of how one may understand it. It’s fantastic when you consider the value of missing. For example, any team that played against the Chicago Bulls loved with Michael Jordan missed a basket. It wasn’t right for Jordan, but it was for the other team. A deer can always be pleased when a hunter misses that shot, and it has the chance to run away. Obviously, for one, missing is disappointing, while for another missing is sweet. Note what’s missing from heaven: sea (i.e., chaos; cf. Gen. 1:1–3), death, sorrow, crying, and pain (Rev. 21:1, 4; cf. v. 8).

Furthermore, the curse no longer exists—neither the night (Rev. 22:3, 5). These are absent for one particular reason, and that’s because of God’s presence. Joy displaces sorrow and suffering—something comforting to persecuted believers in the first century, and even all those who live now with sadness. Those who persecute use such things to oppress and injure others, but the faithful of God will relish the absence of them in heaven. These are often the first things we might think about when we envision heaven. This is what is obviously most appealing to us, especially in times of hardship and heartache, but it’s not all that there is.

What next appears is the reality and eschatological expectation that God dwells with men and men with Him (Rev. 21:3). Heaven is the “tabernacle” of God—skene in Greek; mishkan in Hebrew; skin in English. The same three-letter root appears for each; skn. Initially, the term noted a large tent often made of skins, which is what the tabernacle was in the wilderness. As a metaphor, this indicates the divine presence of God (cf. Rev. 7:15; John 1:14). This tabernacle, New Jerusalem, is actually the Holy of Holies itself (Rev. 21:16), and the entirety of the city is the tabernacle (Rev. 21:22). I’ve mentioned in preaching before that when God created the heavens and the earth that He did so as a temple. Our sins alienated us from Him and corrupted the world which resulted in His wonderful creation being unclean. Through the tabernacle, temple, and church, He has set holy precincts back in the earth so that He could live among humanity. However, since the planet still contains sin, the new heavens and new earth will be the totality of His original design. This demonstrates a beautiful cohesiveness to the entirety of Scripture and the heart of God.

Finally, there’s the quenching of one’s thirst (Rev. 21:7). Throughout Scripture, a person who thirsts is one who has a need. Those that hunger and thirst for righteousness will be satisfied (Matt. 5:6). As an invitation to an abundant life, Israelites were encouraged to come to God if they thirsted (Is. 55:1), and the psalmist depicted their longing for God as a thirst (Ps. 63:1–2). Blaise Pascal was a seventeenth-century philosopher, among other things. He wrote a work entitled Pensées (pron. pawn-say; “Thoughts”) in which he wrote

What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself.[1]

Centuries before Pascal would pen his words, Augustine would write, “Restless is our heart until it comes to rest in thee” (Conf. 1.1.1), so God’s angel would show John the pure river of water of life (Rev. 22:1). Our thirst is quenched. Our desires are satisfied.

There’s a lovely poem entitled, “A Letter from Heaven,” that reads:

When tomorrow starts without me;

And I’m not here to see,

If the sun should rise and find your

Eyes, filled with tears for me.

 I wish so much that you wouldn’t cry,

The way you did today,

While thinking of the man things,

We didn’t get to say.

 I know how much you love me,

As much as I love you,

And each time you think of me,

I know you’ll miss me too.

 When tomorrow starts without me,

Don’t think we’re far apart,

For every time you think of me,

I’m right there in your heart.

 “And the Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come!’ And let him who hears says, ‘Come!’ and let him who thirsts comes. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely” (Rev. 22:17).

[1] Blaise Pascal, Pensées (New York: Penguin Books, 1966), 75.

The Final Judgment

When I began this study of Revelation, it was because we were living during a pandemic, unlike what any of us has ever seen in our lifetime. People were applying concepts and visions from this book to the things that have been happening in our country and world, and pointing to the “fulfillment” of the book as happening before our eyes. I imagine previous generations have done similarly, but up until this point, I’ve shown how most of the book was something fulfilled in the first century during which geopolitical events that occurred then were wreaking havoc on the church. In the previous lesson, we began to get a glimpse of the current state of affairs that applied as much to the first century as to us now. Then, we began to see what the future holds for Satan at his second coming. The harlot, the beast, and Babylon will have all been dealt with—and the climax at the end is that Satan is cast into the lake that burns with fire and brimstone. Despite thinking all is accomplished, there are still two more enemies of humanity that must meet their demise—death and hades.

The Judgment Scene 

The New Testament is replete with the fact that a final reckoning is to come. Christ attested to His second coming being a point at which He sits on the throne of His glory for judgment (Matt. 25:31–46; cf. John 5:22–23). The Pauline corpus mentions as a corollary to his counsel the future judgment (Rom. 2:5, 16; 2 Cor. 5:10; 2 Tim. 4:1), and he is as much recorded as having preached such too (Acts 17:30–31). The fact of judgment is a foregone conclusion in Christian theology and is to be expected, but what exactly will it be like? John gives us insight as do other passages. Christ will separate the sheep from goats and uses a litmus test as to how they regarded their brethren—with love or disregard. Judgment is spoken of in 2 Peter as coinciding on the day of fire and destruction of the ungodly (2 Peter 3:7). Jude also mentions judgment relative to the ungodly sinners (14–15).

To the Christian who’s been “justified” in the name of Christ, judgment isn’t anything to necessarily fear. To be justified is to be declared righteous, or literally to be set right by God. Our Father does this through the blood of His Son when we demonstrate faithfulness to and in Christ. It’s a legal term in Greek (dikaioo) and held the weight of a person being acquitted. In legal speak, a person acquitted has been freed from a criminal charge, and this is the plight of Christians—we are free of the charges against us because the blood of Christ has cleansed us. Judgment, therefore, shouldn’t be something we dread because of our standing in Christ Jesus.

This is a spectacular scene. Center is a great white throne, upon which the Lord sits (Rev. 20:11). This scene and all of Revelation in some way hearken back to Dan 7:9–10. We next note that the earth and heaven fled from His face. Moses once asked to see God’s glory, but God would show him only His goodness because were Moses or anyone, for that fact, to see His face, they would die. God, however, in His grace made provision for Moses to see Him as much as he could (Exod. 33:18–23). In eternity, the New Jerusalem, we shall see Him as no eye, but Jesus has ever seen Him (Rev. 22:4). On judgment day, there’s no hiding place. Everything is laid bare before the presence of the glory of the Lord. Humanity, like Adam and Eve after the fall in Eden, has tried to hide from God, but there’s no hiding place now, and at the judgment, we will realize just how bare we have been (Heb. 4:13).

All stand before the Lord, and books are opened. First, no one, no matter how grand they have been in life nor how small, stands before God. We’re all on equal ground. Social standing doesn’t matter. Accomplishments in life are insignificant. God doesn’t much care about that stuff like we do. He doesn’t care how many times we’ve appeared in the paper, or what awards we’ve won, or even the degrees we’ve earned in university. He’s looking at the record of our deeds (vv. 12–13). Before there’s any concern, the fact that God judges according to our deeds does not negate justification by faith. When we take the whole of Christian theology into account, this actually makes perfect sense. Our works proceed from our faith, so if we’ve been faithful, then we’ve been justified and need not worry. However, if our actions reflect a lack of faith, then we have something with which to be concerned. How have we responded to the love of God? Have we responded to love with love, or have we rejected love? The response we give to God’s love is the sum total of our works and deeds, and these are recorded in the books brought to God at the judgment.

What “books” are we speaking about? In Jewish literature and tradition, angels record the misdeeds of humans and report such to God in the interlude between the destruction of the earth and the resurrection (Sib. Or. 2.215–16; cf. Dan. 7:10). However, the book with which we need to be most concerned with is the Lamb’s Book of Life (vv. 12, 14). This book’s been mentioned already (cf. 3:5; 13:8; 17:8), and Jewish teaching upheld that God had a record of those who were in communion with Him and those who weren’t (cf. Exod. 32:32; Is. 4:3; Dan. 12:1–2). We whose names are written in the Lamb’s Book of Life are those saved by God’s grace. We have been bought with the blood of the Lamb, and our faith has borne our trust in the faithfulness of Jesus. It isn’t that we lack works ourselves, but that the grace of our God far outshines any misdeeds we may have against us because we have trusted the Lord. If our name is absent, we, like Death and Hades, join Satan and his entourage in the lake that burns with fire. Such do not live eternally, but die, never to live again.

Hell in Heaven?

Those of us who live by faith, though we may not see what God is doing in a predicament, trust that He is acting for our benefit; however that may look. Those who walk by sight are destined to see only what’s before their eyes, which can lead to panic, despondency, and even hopelessness. For the Asian Christians, they were striving to live by faith, but the sight of their reality was so grim that they couldn’t help but see what’s before them. Luckily for them, John can see beyond the physical into the heavens and reveal what it was precisely that he beheld. When we are so overtaken by sight, it always helps for someone of greater faith to come along and to aid us in better viewing the matter as Jesus would have us.

One of my favorite Bible stories occurs along this line. Elisha, the prophet, was at the helm of the prophetic ministry of Israel. One early morning, his servant arose to see that the Syrian army had surrounded the city where they were, and he lamented the sight of what he saw. Elisha, however, was not phased. Instead, he told his servant that they had more on their side than the Syrians had. The servant was puzzled by this because he could only see by sight, so Elisha prayed that God would “open his eyes” to see what was occurring in the heavenly places. God did so, and here’s what we read, “And behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha” (2 Kings 6:17). There it is: seeing by faith.

What John Now Sees 

 The trumpets of judgment have finished, and we’ve been shown an interlude of the past. John showed us the nativity of our Savior, and even the fall of Satan from heaven after the resurrection and kingdom of our Lord came. However, because the enemy has been cast to the earth, he has sought to devour the faithful. How he was doing this now was through two beasts: the first beast, the Roman Empire, the second beast, enforced image worshiping. If one were a faithful image worshipper, they received the seal or appropriate documents to transact business—known as the mark of the beast (Rev. 13:16–18). For a Christian to bear the mark of the beast entailed that they do not carry the mark of the Lamb, what John turns to next.

After seeing those who worship the second beast, John looks and sees the 144,000 with the Lamb as if a conquering army. They have overcome, but how? By martyrdom (Rev. 15:2). In American Christianity, we would seldom think of sacrifice as an “overcoming” or “victory” (nike), but that’s how it’s portrayed here. John’s Revelation even receives and gives a blessing for those who have died in the Lord (Rev. 14:13). Our view of death is often as one of defeat and loss. This isn’t at all to minimize the heartache that it causes to we who remain on the earth, but we’d do well to see death as the Lord has now defined it—victory. This Greek term is the one that birthed the popular Nike shoe. The word means “victory” and is taken from the goddess of victory who shares that name.

 If the majority opinion is correct that this letter was composed in the 90s CE, then by the time of the reading of the very first verse of this chapter, a chord would have been struck. The Lamb stands on Mount Zion with the 144,000, but if this dating is accurate, Jerusalem has once again been destroyed by Roman armies, and the temple is no more. Here, however, is not so much the physical location as it is the heavenly (cf. Heb. 12:22). Thus, we see here the city of God where victory is and the city of man where troubles await—Babylon, as John sees it (Rev. 14:8; cf. 1 Peter 5:13). Just as Babylon of old destroyed Jerusalem, so the modern one did the same. Notice, however, the 144,000: they are redeemed (Rev. 14:3–4). Some translations may here say that they were “purchased,” which is an equally appropriate translation. Those who could not buy nor sell (Rev. 13:17) are themselves purchased by the Lamb. What a lovely thought!

The Message of the Angel 

This is the first time John had seen an angel since 11:15 with the fifth trumpet. He sees the angel flying in heaven, having the everlasting good news to preach to those on the earth. It isn’t that the angel itself is preaching the gospel per se, but that by its flying amid heaven, the message is being proclaimed through the martyrs.[1] Contrary to worldly thinking, the word of the cross thrives in times of intense turbulence. The persecution of Christians led to them scattering to Samaria, where disciples were made (Acts 8:1), and Paul’s imprisonment resulted in the conversion of the jailer charged with keeping him and Silas (Acts 16:25–34), to name a couple of occasions. The message is also universal, and anyone who tries to tie the good news to any particular race misses its essence. It’s global, but it also carries with it judgment.

Not only is this everlasting gospel proclaimed, but what follows it is also of consolation to the faithful. A second angel announces the fall of Babylon, by which is meant Rome (Rev. 14:8).[2] What’s unclear is if John sees the fall of the Roman Empire or if he had something else in mind, because the Roman Empire wouldn’t officially fall until the late fifth century CE. Does John have in mind the city herself? Whatever is in mind, the point is that on the heels of the good news of the kingdom of God, any opposing force is sure to fall as so noted by the twice, emphatic proclamation of “fallen.” The kingdom of God and her King, Christ, provide peace and justice, whereas Babylon has made the nation’s drink of sinfulness.

A third angel follows with the warning against those who worship the beast, his image, and who receives their mark. Such people will drink of the wrath of God, which is a warning to Christians teetering on the edge of deciding either to engage in commerce or to remain faithful to God and suffer from a measure of want—to recant Christ under penalty of death or to remain steadfast and suffer martyrdom (Rev. 14:9–10). Notice, though, that these “shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb.” Sounds like hell, doesn’t it. We often think of hell as down there while heaven is up there, but Scripture discloses that “a fiery stream issued … from before Him” (Dan. 7:10). Wait a minute! Preachers have often spoken about hell as away from the presence of the Lord (cf. 2 Thess. 1:9). The understanding may be that they won’t experience his glory as of the faithful, because they responded to His love with rejection rather than with love. This is a message for the church and shouldn’t be misunderstood as God saying, “Look what I’ll do to those who injure you.” Instead, God is saying, “Look what awaits you if you reject me and apostatize.” Ergo, this is the patience of the saints (Rev. 14:12), and they are blessed to die in the Lord (Rev. 14:13).

Two more angels appear one to call for reaping the harvest, and the second to secure the grapes of the wrath of God. These are preludes to the bowl judgments. The faithful who’ve overcome are seen as triumphant, singing a new song. As they praise the God of heaven for His grace and their original state, angels step forth with the bowls of God’s wrath, poised to pour them upon the earth in the judgment of the righteous Creator of heaven and earth for what those on the planet have done: worshipped imperial power at the sake of the true and living God.

Hell in Heaven? 

As previously mentioned, the fiery stream that issues from God’s throne, as depicted in Daniel, may give pause to the Christian today who is unaccustomed to thinking that hell is in God’s presence. How can it be that such a horrific place can be in the presence of a loving God? This is a reasonable question. It all depends on your theology as to how you’d want to view the matter. I’m more inclined to Eastern Orthodoxy because of its antiquity versus Western American Christianity that has primarily been influenced by the Reformation and, especially, John Calvin. Dostoevsky’s novel, The Brothers Karamazov, is a must-read for Christians. I would say behind Scripture, this novel should rank near a must-read. Therein, we’re introduced to an aged, saintly man in a monastery named Elder Zosima. When he defines “hell,” he says, “[It’s] the suffering of being no longer able to love.”[3] I do not so much view hell as God’s hatred of sinners as John Calvin did, but I view hell as a wrong response to the love of God.

God loves humanity, His creation. He has demonstrated the length and breadth of His love by sending His precious Son to die for us while yet sinners (Rom. 5:8). He doesn’t hate us, and He’s not like the Greco-Roman pantheon who uses humans as their playthings. Nor is he like an evil little child holding a magnifying glass upon ants while the sun erupts them into the fire. God’s disposition towards sinners and saints alike is love, and if we respond to God’s love with rejection, we will experience His love as torment. This is why hell, I believe, is depicted as agony, suffering, and pain. Imagine a rebellious little boy who’s dearly loved by his mother. The mother wants to hug him, but he rejects her hugs. She wants to give him a kiss on his cheek, but he dodges her. All she has to offer to him is her love. She’ll make him his favorite meal, but he isn’t thankful. She’ll dote on him, but he sneers. To him, her love is embarrassing, inconvenient, and overbearing. All she wants to do is love her son. His brother, however, is grateful for the meals, hugs her in return, and receives her kisses with a warmth that makes him feel special. Why is it that one son receives love with love while the other refuses to accept love and rejects it? No one knows.

People choose to receive God’s love with warmth and return that love to Him in faith. We, by faith, are overwhelmed by such a radical love that we do something that others don’t appreciate or understand. We trust God because His love is so powerful. We declare our love by confession. We return our love by repentance. We reciprocate our love in baptism. However, we should never become wary of God’s love, even when things get hard. We should, instead, be even bolder to say to the world that we would never abandon our love because He has so loved us. This is heaven: enjoying and basking in the love of God. Hell is finding His love to be inconvenient, overbearing, and so we reject His love and find it a torment. The prodigal son departed from the father and went into the land of sin, where he found misery. He chose hell in a manner of speaking. The father didn’t kick him out, and he didn’t drive him out. The son chose. We, too, must choose.

[1] Keener, Revelation, 372.

[2] Jewish literature demonstrates that they referred to Rome as Babylon (Sib. Or. 5.143, 159–61; 4 Ezra 3:1–2, 28; 2 Bar. 11:1–2.

[3] Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (San Fransisco: North Point, 1990), 322.

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