There Are Far Better Things Ahead

Today’s Reading: Revelation 7:9-17

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John now sees “a great multitude that no one could number.”

This multitude consists of people from every nation, tribe, people, and language.

Consider the creativity of God, in that instead of making us all clones or carbon copies of one another, through the course of human history, He has made a world full of diverse tribes, nations, families, and languages.

Contrary to popular opinion, diversity, apart from some common value or unifying principle, is not a strength in itself. Without a shared goal, people who are different from each other will almost always resort to conflict. This is largely the norm throughout history.

It’s only in Christ that harmony and unity are made possible among people groups of varying territories, cultures, social norms, and political beliefs. Temporary alliances may form in pursuit of some political, territorial, or economic gain, but they are typically short-lived. Only the gospel can turn warring tribes into brothers and sisters.

There are two errors people make when it comes to this idea of kingdom “diversity.” I recognize that even using that word conjures up emotional and political baggage from years of forced corporate DEI programs and superficial race quotas forced upon every institution in modern life. But for our purposes, don’t read any political agenda into it. It simply means the presence of different kinds of people. In our case, “people from every nation, tribe, people, and language.”

The first mistake we can make is to over-emphasize these differences, to make every conversation about the church and its people into one of race, ethnicity, and “diverse perspectives.” This takes the focus off the main thing, which is Christ, and shifts it to man. It also very commonly turns the church body into just another arena for grievance politics.

The second error is just the opposite side of this coin: we downplay our differences to the point of denying God’s sovereign creativity in how He made the world. I want to be fair here, because it typically comes from a good place. Indeed, Paul tells the Galatians that “there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” But Paul is teaching about our equal standing in union with Christ. He is not erasing creational distinctions or encouraging the flattening of all social realities into some indistinct, amorphous blob of humanity. This “oneness” in Christ does not mean interchangeability, for throughout the rest of His writings, Paul emphasizes the unique roles of men and women, acknowledges Jews and Gentiles as distinct people groups, and teaches on the various roles and stations within society and the church. In other words, within the community of faith which is one in Christ, distinctions and hierarchies remain. Unity in Christ transcends all these differences, but it does not destroy them. We should worship God for His infinite creativity, not seek to minimize it.

They stand before the throne and the Lamb.

Matthew Henry puts this another way: they stood “before the Creator and the Mediator,” for “the throne of God would be inaccessible to sinners were it not for a Mediator.”

They are clothed in the white robes of victorious martyrs, symbolizing their justification, holiness, and triumph, and holding palm branches.

Palm branches were historically used to celebrate victory, and of course remind us of when the crowds waved palm branches to welcome Jesus into Jerusalem, recognizing Him as a king and Messiah.

In Leviticus and Nehemiah, during the Festival of Booths (or Tabernacles), God commands His people to use palm branches to build shelters during the festival, symbolizing celebration, remembrance of God’s provision, and joy.

And now, this great multitude appears before the throne holding palm branches, signifying their ultimate triumph and eternal life through salvation.

The multitude cries out, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” and the angels, elders, and four living creatures fall on their faces and offer a “sevenfold doxology,” similar to the praise given to the Lamb in previous chapters.

An elder then tells John who these people are:

“These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”

Have you ever seen someone “coming out” of a time of great trial and tribulation? I think about a platoon of Marines coming out of the field after a particularly nasty training exercise or combat deployment, or an emaciated, sleep-deprived, mentally wrung-out young soldier or sailor finally donning his dress uniform to receive his trident or badge at the end of a long and challenging pipeline.

Even as they appear dirty, sunburned, bruised, and exhausted, there is a palpable feeling of victory among those who endure. The only time I’ve experienced this feeling outside of the military is in the hours immediately following my wife giving birth to our children. There’s something electric about walking through extremely hard things and emerging victorious. In the moments immediately following the crescendo of suffering, pain and misery quickly give way to unending joy.

Think about that moment after a long and miserable winter field op or hunting trip when you’re fresh out of a steaming hot shower, sitting under a heavy blanket in sweatpants and a hoodie, beer in hand next to the fireplace. It’s indescribable, and yet it will not compare to the relief the saints experience in heaven.

While some take the “great tribulation” to represent one single and ultimate period of suffering, the general consensus is that it refers to the church’s trials from John’s time until the Second Coming of Christ.

These saints have made their robes white through a beautiful paradox: by washing them in the blood of the Lamb. It’s important to note that, contrary to other popular world religions, it is not the martyrs’ blood that justifies or purifies them, but the blood of the Lamb. No other blood will do.

We then see a glorious reality: these saints have left their earthly troubles behind.

They have God as their shelter.

They no longer suffer hunger, thirst, or scorching heat.

The Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and He will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Poythress summarizes what this all means:

The victorious saints appear before God to enjoy His presence in a situation of paradisiacal peace and comfort. At the heart of blessing is the presence of God and the Lamb, and their care for the saints.

Though we are brought to the threshold of the Second Coming, it is not quite time to see the fullness of God’s plan for the new Jerusalem, and so, for now, we simply receive God’s promises in general terms until He sees fit to reveal them in greater detail (which He does later in Revelation).