Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, ‘Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?’ I said to him, ‘Sir, you are the one that knows.’ Then he said to me, ‘These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’
- Revelation 7:13-17
I used to think of the Book of Revelation as John of Patmos’ late career mushroom trip. I came up in the church in the era when our Christian scholarship was captivated by “The Historical Jesus.” Accordingly, Revelation was, for me, the rest or the story according to Timothy Leary.
Shortly after her 105th birthday party, my mother had clearly lain down to die. It was OK, after all, she was really old! It was as though she had a running wager with the cosmic hourglass. At 105, she declared victory! In the last five weeks of her life, we spent a lot of time with her, just being available. Often, we would play Bible Roulette.
I would hold out her large-type Bible; mother would force a tongue depressor between the pages, and I would read to her from the scripture where the stick had landed. In the context of end-of-life, even some of Paul’s more lawyerly, dry writing lit up the room.
One evening the tongue depressor landed on Revelation 7. I had to read it several times to get through it without choking on my tears. I left the stick in the Bible, knowing I might need such beautiful, optimistic imagery in the coming days. Of course, I did.
On a subsequent visit, mother asked me what I “thought about Heaven”. She did not ask if I believed in heaven. We re-read Revelation 7 several times. She just smiled. I opened the Bible to Revelation 7 one more time as my mom was taking her last breaths. My iPad played Be still My Soul. What joyful light the words cast on my mom’s departure.
We have just passed through the season of All Hallows Eve, All Saints Day, and Día de Muertos. They are days of remembrance and honor for our beloveds who have ‘gone on”. We are about to witness the arrival of the death-visage of winter.
And yet I find Autumn an optimistic time. There is the certainty that another spring will follow. We look ahead at Christ’s gift of birth, life, death, rebirth and redemption. We can stick a tongue depressor in the ecstatic promise of John’s sacred Revelation -- and read. These point to a path of peace and hope—even as darkness gathers.
Musical Reflection - Thy Word is a Lamp Unto My Feet - Amy Grant
Login To Leave Comment