Revelation 21:1-7
“All Things New”
We have been hearing,
this Easter season, from the Book of Revelation in the place of our usual
Epistle reading. And I, for one, really
appreciate that the lectionary does this.
Not only because Revelation is one of my favorite books of the Bible,
but also the passages that are chosen – some of the highlights, really, some of
the most precious passages of promise in this last book of the Bible.
We see Christ as he
appears to John in chapter 1. We see him
again pictured as the Lamb who once was slain in chapter 5. We glance over John’s shoulder, as it were,
to see the great multitude clothed in white in chapter 7 – a picture of the
church in glory. And in these last
couple of weeks we read from chapters 21 and 22 – the last couple of chapters
of Scripture – and see a picture of the eternal destiny of all who are in
Christ. And what a glorious destiny it
is. Like the happy ending of all happy
endings.
There appears the new
heaven and the new earth, for the first heaven and earth have passed away,
along with the sea. What does this mean?
Revelation makes no
sense here without an understanding of the world that is rooted in
Genesis. There we read about creation –
how God made the heavens and the earth and everything in them – and it was all
very good. But that all changed when the
serpent slithered in with his lie, and our first parents cast their lot with
him in rebellion against God. Not only
did Adam and Eve change in that bitter fall into sin, but all their children
were doomed to the same corruption. Their
fall was our fall.
And furthermore, all of
creation would now be touched by the brokenness that corrupted man, its
steward. In Adam, the first heaven and
earth were broken. And they’ve never
been the same since. Thorns and
thistles, to be sure, but also disease and death, disasters and calamities of
all manner. St. Paul further
characterizes the fallen-ness of creation as a woman in childbirth – with groaning
and labor pains – just like the labor pains that Eve and her daughters would
now face – but on a creation-wide scale.
What a sad day it
was. When the newly minted creation was
shattered by sin. Like the first time
you wear that new white outfit, and dribble the meatball right down the front
of it. Or the new book that cracks when
you open it, and then you spill coffee all over and stain its pages. Like the brand new car you drive off the lot
and at the first intersection gets into a crash. But far worse than any of these. Creation was
marred and scarred by sin. This world
that God created good became the valley of the shadow of death.
Now, in a way, we are
all victims of this fallen creation. And
sometimes troubles happen to us through no discernable fault of our own. Sometimes it’s the wicked world – other
sinners – that trouble us, like when Pilate mixed the blood of some Jews with
their sacrifices. Sometimes it’s just a
freak accident, like when the tower fell and killed those other poor
souls. They weren’t worse sinners than
anyone else, so says Jesus.
And yet, there is also
a sense in which we do bear responsibility and blame for this fallen
world. As our hymn puts it, “In Adam we
have all been one, one huge rebellious man”.
Adam’s sin is our sin. We are, in
our flesh, fruit of his poisoned tree.
And though we didn’t personally eat from the forbidden tree, we are
brought forth in the same iniquity and we ourselves sin just as willingly and
whole-heartedly. We are in our father,
Adam’s, image. And so we can’t really
claim victim status. We deserve death
and punishment, temporal and eternal.
It’s a sad state of
affairs to be a sinner living in a world corrupted and broken by sin. Look closely enough and you’ll see the flaws
in everything. No one is good. Nothing lasts forever. Moth and rust destroy. Death comes for all. But we are not without hope. For Jesus has come – and he makes all things
new.
Jesus, of course, has
no sin of his own – he is conceived by the Holy Spirit – his father is not
Adam, but God. He bears no blame
whatsoever for this fallen creation, and therefore he is the only one who could
truly claim victim status. Only he
suffered without sin, only he unjustly bore the sins of the world. Only he died without deserving it in any
sense. But he doesn’t play the victim in
the sense of whining about it, or expecting some justice for it. He goes willingly to his destruction. He obediently fulfills the Father’s
will. He did it all, though, for
us. He did it to make all things new.
It’s been a while since
I watched the movie, “The Passion of the Christ”. And as with all movies based on a book –
there’s going to be some artistic license.
One detail that sticks in my mind along that line is that as Jesus is
pictured carrying his cross on Good Friday and he stumbles, there is a brief
comment he makes to one of the women who followed weeping and wailing. He looks at her and says, “Behold, I make all
things new”. Now, that’s not something
he said then and there, according to the Gospels. It’s definitely artistic embellishment. But as a theological statement, it’s actually
really good.
At the cross, Christ
makes all things new. By shedding his
holy precious blood in his innocent suffering and death, he makes all things
good, very good, once again. Like at the very beginning.
By his agony and bloody
sweat, he cleanses not only us of our sins – but he purifies all that is
touched and tainted by sin – and that includes the creation itself. So we can rightly see this promise at the end
of Revelation – of a new heaven and earth – as rooted in Christ’s work at the
cross.
He closes the loop on
what was lost in the Garden of Eden. In
the Fall, sin and death came. Now in
Christ they are no more. In the Fall,
man was cast out of the garden, doomed to the wilderness. Now, in Christ, we are welcomed into a holy
city. In the Fall, sin brought sorrow,
pain, and tears. Not only to Adam and
Eve, but it still brings such sorrow to you and me. But all of that is gone in Christ. He will wipe every tear from our eyes.
And here’s another
connection. Part of the bitter
consequence of sin is the separation of God and man. In Eden, God walked in the garden and they
stood in his presence. There was nothing
to get in the way. Now in Christ, that’s
restored. The dwelling of God is with
man – God makes himself a man, takes on human flesh in the person of
Christ. And because of Christ, we have
an eternal dwelling with God in the new creation. That’s what makes heaven so great anyway –
that we get to be with God. That the
dwelling of God is with man. We his
people, and he our God forever.
The next couple of
weeks we will hear more from Revelation about that eternal home of ours. First it will be pictured (as briefly
mentioned here) as the bride of Christ, and as the Holy City. The Heavenly Jerusalem will have perfect
dimensions and rich features – gates of pearl and streets of gold. In other words, our new home will be the best
– and a place of perfection.
And then we will see
more of what was lost in Eden restored – the tree of life reappears. River
water flows – not the 4 rivers of Eden but the River of Life flowing from the
very throne of God. We will have life in
abundance. God will provide for our
every need. There won’t even be night
there – for God will be our light and our life.
Friends, when Jesus
does something, he does it all the way.
When he says he makes all things new, he means it! What a blessing that when he returns we will
have a new heaven and a new earth, that the former things will pass away, that
the dwelling of God will be with man for eternity, and that we will live in
newly resurrected and glorified bodies built for eternity.
Sin ruins
everything. Death touches every corner
of this creation. But Jesus makes all
things new. He undoes the curse. He restores you and me and creation. Thanks be to God.
Now may the peace….
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