Revelation 21:1-6

Revelation 21:1-6 (NRSV)

 Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. ² And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. ³ And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them as their God;

they will be his peoples,

and God himself will be with them;

⁴ he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away.”

⁵ And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” ⁶ Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.

           

            Revelation 21:1-6 is part of a segment that extends to verse 8. It has the theme of a new heaven and a new earth, one of the unnumbered visions of the book.[1] This passage gives me an opportunity to reflect upon the importance of tomorrow in Christian hope. I refer to Hans Christian Andersen and C. S. Lewis in the process.

In context, the people of God have been in the wilderness. Now, John stands on Mount Pisgah. Only the true vision of New Jerusalem gives John the insight into the nature of Babylon. Here is the seventh and final vision of the end in the Book of Revelation that may extend to 22:5. 

The book of Revelation is often a confusing book.  However, it contains a central message that I believe is clear.  The power, wealth, and prestige of this earth seem quite strong.  Until this point in Revelation, the book has reported the judgment of God upon the earth.  John saw all those strange images that confuse us and make us wonder what the future will look like.  He has a vision of Babylon, a vision of the Beast, and a vision of a Dragon.  He describes these creatures in detail.  They are powerful and fearful creatures.  They bring destruction upon the earth.  They persecute the church.  Yet, despite that, the true church remains faithful to Christ.  His vision includes the powers of this world in all their grandeur and glory, doing battle against God and the church.  Frankly, the church is not a match for the powers of this world.  It seems silly to be a believer in Jesus. Think of the difference between the funerals of Princess Diana and Mother Teresa.  The princess had the wealth and power surrounding her.  The service of Mother Teresa was simple, just like her life.

However, as we near the end of this book, God easily disposes of worldly power and wealth.  What appeared so grand and powerful from the perspective of the earth, was nothing from the perspective of heaven.  Do you think that John gained a new perspective?  He saw this grand vision of a new heaven and a new earth.  He saw a new city, New Jerusalem, the holy city, coming from heaven.  God is with us!  God’s presence fills the earth!  He sees a new creation.  This earth has passed away.  The imagery is clear.  Moses stood on the mountain long ago, and the voice of God announced the covenant of God with Israel.  Now, John stands on the mountain, and hears the voice of God again.  This time, the announcement is clear: “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them.”  What God has prepared for you, if you believe, is far greater than anything you can imagine.  It is far greater than anything you can acquire here.  It is greater than any other sense of power, prestige, or success that you may gain here. 

John envisions the realization of the rule of God, portrayed as the time when God finally overcomes the estrangement between God and humanity. The emphasis upon newness suggests that the movement of history has transcended present patterns of the cosmic order. The purpose of God, which is to dwell in community with humanity, will finally reach its fulfillment. God is not just altering a few details. Rather, God is transforming the framework of the universe. [2]

¹Then I saw a new (ritually pure) heaven (οὐρανὸν) and a new (ritually pure) earth (see Isaiah 65:17); for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away (ἀπῆλθαν). Mark 13:31 says that heaven and earth will pass away. I Corinthians 7:31 says that the present world is passing away. Paul also says in Romans 8:19-23 that creation itself is groaning for its release from bondage so that it can arrive at the freedom of children of God. II Peter 3:10, 13 say that the Day of the Lord will come like a thief, but when it comes, the heavens will pass away, and a new heaven and a new earth will come, where righteousness is at home. However, unlike the anticipated fiery destruction of the present earth in II Peter 3:7, John the Seer does not describe how they pass away. Nevertheless, the comparison with II Peter does prepare the way for two aspects of John’s vision. First, it is not only “the first earth” but also “the first heaven” that has seen its present state discontinued.[3]Even though “heaven” in this instance properly refers to what we might call “space” in distinction to “heaven” as the spiritual abode of God (cf. the usage in v. 2), John’s point is that the whole of the created cosmos has “passed away” in favor of the “new” cosmos that God has made. Further, the sea was no more. Deep calls to deep and the waves have gone over me (Psalm 42:7). Human beings have a fear of the ocean. One who is not afraid of the sea will soon drown, for one will go on a day one should not. Yet, respect for the sea will result in the death of some.[4]

            Roll on, thou deep and dark Ocean - roll

            Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;

            Man marks the earth with ruin - his control

            Stops with the shore.[5]

 

As John envisions it, all that threatens the salvation of humanity will end.[6] The waters of chaos no longer afflict this new creation. In much ancient Near Eastern creation literature, the roiling, unfathomable waters of the sea are the untamed, disruptive powers of chaos. The sea harbored monsters and demonic forces that constantly threatened human existence. Little wonder that John's vision calls for these unknown waters to dry up and cease to exist. Included in this understanding of “sea” is that the Hebrews walked through the sea on dry land. The spiritual symbolism of that physical description is central to understanding what might seem a minor observation (and a particularly disappointing one for beach lovers). The “sea” here stands as a symbol for all the evil and chaos in the present order. This symbolism appeared earlier in the book when the “beast” arose from the “sea” (13:1) as a kind of embodiment or incarnation of evil. The absence of the “sea” in the “new earth,” then, signifies not only that such evil and chaos have been banished but also that the very wells, if you will, from which it might once again have been drawn likewise no longer exist. In the Testament of Moses 10:1, 6, the kingdom of God will appear throughout the whole creation, the devil will have an end, sorrow be led away, and the sea will retire. We see an emphasis upon the new creation. Renewal of creation is an emphasis in many texts. See Jubilees 1:29, I Enoch 72:1, II Baruch 32:6, 57:2. The point is that a new heaven and a new earth is a prerequisite for the definitive actualizing of the reign of God. The reason is that human conflict has deep roots in the natural conditions of existence as it now is. Though created with independence in mind, it has become the self-seeking of everyone.[7] ² In addition, I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven (clearly now meaning the abode of God rather than what we call space) from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. The equation of the church as a pre-existent heavenly Jerusalem, as suggested in Galatians 4:26, Revelation 3:12, and Hebrews 12:22, easily suggested itself.[8]We see a second emphasis upon the new city. Sometimes the concept of a heavenly Jerusalem overlaps with that of a heavenly temple. See I Enoch 14:16-20, 25:3, 71:5-7, 85-90, Testament of Levi 3:4-9. As a city now built by God alone, above and outside the old corrupt creation, this Jerusalem is now truly a new creation and a holy city.  With Jerusalem as the bride and those faithful believers who remain after the last judgment as the bridegroom, this new creation becomes nothing less than the household of God. The “new earth” is more than just a return to an Edenic garden, for God places in its midst a “new Jerusalem” that comes directly “from God.” The contrast with Eden is later made explicit by mention of the “tree of life” (22:2b; cf. Genesis 2:9). Whereas the earlier “tree of life” stood in the midst of a “garden,” here, it stands amid a city. John’s point is likely that the restoration is not just of the natural, environmental order but extends to civilization and human societies as well. In contrast to the societies corrupted by human sinfulness epitomized earlier as “Babylon the great, mother of whores” (17:1-6), this renewed society comes directly “from God” and is presented symbolically as “a bride adorned for her husband.” A New Jerusalem comes from heaven in a way that focuses upon two things. First, it becomes the center of the new creation. Second, it is also personal in its portrayal as a bride. In Isaiah 62:4-5, the city will no longer be called Abandoned or Desolate, but my Delight and Married. The Lord will take delight in them, like a groom for his bride. This passage offers a hint of Isaiah 65:17-19, where the Lord is going to create Jerusalem as a joy and its people a delight, where the Lord will rejoice in Jerusalem and delight in the people of the Lord. In IV Ezra 10:25-28, the vision is of the woman who becomes a city. When God transformed her, she became the heavenly Jerusalem. Ford thinks the city is a corporate personality, the community of the faithful. John later describes the city in the chapter as being a cube (1,500 miles along each side, v. 16). Those dimensions would place the top of the city’s walls at six times the altitude of the International Space Station, which orbits at 250 miles above Earth. Modern English translations mask the symbolism of this number in measuring in our conventional unit (miles) rather than the units used by the author (stadia). Expressed in its own terms, the relationship of the 12,000 stadia to the 12 gates, 12 tribes, 12 foundations, etc. (see vv. 12-14) becomes apparent. The New Testament speaks of an oikodome. It occasionally refers to the outlines of the building as already present. It mentions its completed form. However, for good reason, the New Testament does not identify the latter with the result of human construction. The reference is always to another actuality in which the reality is not merely future to itself, but transcendent. The holy city, New Jerusalem in this passage does not grow up from the earth to heaven, but comes down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride for her husband. The plan is set out in ideal terms in 21:10-23.[9]

            If you want a sermon series based upon the next four verses, here are some thoughts. These four verses thus describe the new, new world order of a future administration in which we are God’s people, without tears and without need.

            In verse 3, sermon 1 in the series, The people of God, connecting with Hosea 1:9 and I Peter 2:9-10. ³ I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home (σκηνὴ) or tabernacle of God is among mortals. God will dwell (σκηνώσει or tabernacle with them as their God; they will be the people of God, and God will be with them. We now see a third emphasis upon the new exodus and the new Sinai. It is the language of covenant, and thus of the cloud descending on Mouth Sinai and Israel being married to God. Here, people do not accomplish this. Rather, the presence of God among the people will accomplish it. In the words from the throne, there is a closing to the description of the new creation. We find covenantal language, as in the notion that they are God’s people, and that God is their God, as we find in Leviticus 26:11-12, Jeremiah 31:33, Ezekiel 37:27, and Zechariah 8:8. According to John's fulfilled vision in this new creation, God at last tabernacles, or dwells, with the people of God. John then hears God speaking from the throne to interpret the vision’s overarching significance. All that has separated humanity from the full realization of the presence of God is what God will remove. It is interesting, however, that the Greek describes God’s “home” as a “tabernacle” and uses the cognate verb for “dwell,” which might be more literally translated “will tabernacle.” Both the noun and the verb usually carry the nuance of a temporary dwelling or passing a limited period (see the use of this verb in John 1:14). Nothing within this vision, however, suggests John anticipates this “new heaven and new earth” will eventually “pass away” as the “first” ones eventually will. More likely the phrasing anticipates the statement in Revelation 21:22 that there is “no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God.” As in Hebrews 8:2; 9:11-12, God’s celestial or spiritual dwelling place (particularly in Hebrews as a kind of Platonic ideal in contrast to the “earthly tabernacle”) is better related to the tabernacle first revealed in the Torah than to the later temple, which was patterned after it.

Sermon 2 in the series could focus on the one thing heaven will not have – tears. No weeping or crying in heaven. What do we cry about these days? We cry when a loved one dies, when we struggle to meet our bills, when a Republican or Democrat is elected, when we do not get a promotion, when we are afflicted with illness, when our children leave home, when we cannot get an Internet connection, etc. So, what will it be like to live in a world where there is nothing to cry about? ⁴ God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more. A fourth emphasis is the state of bliss. The existence enjoyed by those dwelling in this new creation is one void of tears and death, mourning and pain -- all will "be no more." Only the eschatological consummation in which God will wipe away all tears can remove all doubts concerning the revelation of the love of God in creation and salvation history even though the love of God has been at work already at each stage in the history of creation.[10] In contrast to this notion, Barth stressed so much the connection between creation and covenant that he loses a sense of the creaturely reality that is a process oriented to a future consummation. He stresses that God will show the righteous of God only in the end of time.[11] The implication of such a promise is the ambiguity that the righteousness of God shows in the world as it is. The praise we offer to God today is an anticipation of the eschatological praise of God, just as worship today anticipates the praise of the heavenly community. In the notion that death shall be no more, we can see that death is unnatural.[12] We see the death of death. When there is no suffering, we discover that even the cross of Jesus will have its time. The Christian community will have its time, for there is coming a time when there will be no more temple.[13] Then, reminding us of the first emphasis, for the first things have passed away.” The corrupted creation they were a part of has itself disappeared. 

Sermon 3 could focus upon a new thing. If we could be God for a day, what would we change? What would a perfect world look like if we were in charge? God promises that everything will be new. ⁵ Further, the one sitting on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” John's vision emphasizes the radical newness of this future. This is not simply a remodel job on the old vehicle. This is fully a "new creation." We also see the promise in the Wisdom of Solomon 7:27. This bold statement testifies to both the divine power to create anew out of nothing and to continue, "making all things new" by nature of the enduring tabernacling presence of the divine.  Notice that John says nothing explicitly about destroying the former things and beginning fresh by the creation of new things. Rather, God will make all things that are now in existence “new,” a point scribes may have clarified in using the compound verb kainopoiw rather than the adjective and verb kaina poiw. It is not that God will make all new things but rather that God will renew all things. What is finally envisioned here places more emphasis on redemption than on judgment. 

Sermon 4 could focus upon the unlimited supply. If you live in the desert, the promise of an unending supply of fresh, cool water — free of charge — is huge. In this world, resources are often limited and come at great cost. In the future world of God’s kingdom, all our needs will be met. (See Philippians 4:10-13, 19.). In addition, he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” ⁶ Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. John refers to the proclamation of the theocracy. John follows up that proclamation with the further proclamation of an everlasting covenant and free nourishment, see Isaiah 40:1, 3, 11. John uses a common Greek idiom to declare the constancy of this always-present God. Josephus and Philo had already referred to God as "the first and the last." John's use of the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet was a linguistic image also used by Hebrew speaking/writing scholars. Hebrew scholars who called God the “truth” emphasized this same notion of a God always present. In Hebrew, the word "truth" is spelled alephe-mem-tav -- using the first, middle and last letters of the Hebrew alphabet. Thus God, the truth, is a God who is present at the beginning, the center and the end of all created existence.  Jesus of Nazareth is the ultimate limit of our being, who has definitively manifested himself as personal love. For faith, Christ is the veritable center of history. He is the culmination of all preceding salvation history, the breaking in of the eschatological kingdom of God, the final norm and criterion of all authentic value, meaning, and reality.[14] “The first and the last” is a reference to the notion that the exalted Lord shares the life of the Father that embraces all ages.[15] God is not restricted to being first or last. God stands above the alternative of beginning and end and is Lord of both. One of the challenges of a theology of creation is to express the way in which the eternal God embraces the beginning and end of the creaturely world. Conceptually, the theologian will need to show that God does this by not only bringing forth time as the form of existence for creation but by having the divine life enter the created world in way that preserves it and rules it.[16]

The images of this passage invite reflection upon the continuing role of Israel. I want to offer a view that has some nuance to it. I do not think that we can legitimately separate our commitment to the Jewish people from our commitment to Israel. God offers a decisive, all embracing and confirming Yes to the testimony of God’s definite and distinctive dwelling on earth. What the Old Testament says about Zion and Jerusalem “still obtains” and finds confirmation. The passages referring to Zion refer to the special nature of God’s place, and God is in a special place for us as well. However, for Christians, the coming of Christ means that the time has also passed of God’s dwelling at those special places whose special nature had a historical bond with conditions that have now lapsed. It has passed, like the time of the sacrifices and the Law. Special places can no longer exist in this sense. Thus, if Christianity tries to duplicate this notion of special places, it will do so only as a relapse into Judaism. Theologically, then, we cannot expect anything for the Jews from a return to Palestine as the holy land. With the coming of Christ, there does not exist anymore a holy mountain, holy city, or holy land. The reason is that with prophecy fulfilled in Christ, the holiness of God is located in Him. In Him are Sinai, Zion, Bethel, and Jerusalem. It is all in Him as divine space, as the heavenly Jerusalem (verse 2) prepared for His own, who have their country already here and now, but must seek it as strangers and sojourners here and now in this world, having no country in this world that corresponds to it. This makes it no more “non-spatial” than being “in Christ” in other ways.[17]

We might expect to have the final scene of this book be a picture of heaven. Yet, heaven is not a perfect world to which we will go someday. Earth is not a shabby, second-rate temporary dwelling from which we shall be glad to depart for good. Earth is a glorious part of creation. Heaven is the abode of God. The created world needs renewal. This renewal occurs as heaven and earth unite forever. The dwelling or glory of the Lord shall be among the people. As John 1 reminds us, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. God coming to this world in Jesus of Nazareth came to an unknowing and unwelcoming people. God will do the same thing on a cosmic scale. God is coming to live in our midst as a healing, comforting, and celebrating presence.[18]

Hans Christian Andersen captures this disjunction between earth and heaven in an odd little fable, “A Leaf from Heaven.” An angel, carrying a heavenly flower, happens to drop a little piece of the plant, which slowly rides the air-currents down to earth. It takes root in the soil. It grows up, different from any other plant: a vision of perfect loveliness, but strong enough to resist the snows of winter and the depredations of nearby weeds that have nothing but contempt for this newcomer. A botanist shows up, but the plant stymies him in his attempts to categorize it. “It must be some degenerate species,” he concludes cluelessly. Not long after, a young girl of deep piety happens by. In Andersen’s words: “The girl stood still before the wonderful plant, for the green leaves exhaled a sweet and refreshing fragrance, and the flowers glittered and sparkled in the sunshine like colored flames, and the harmony of sweet sounds lingered round them as if each concealed within itself a deep fount of melody, which thousands of years could not exhaust. “With pious gratitude, the girl looked upon this glorious work of God, and bent down over one of the branches, that she might examine the flower and inhale the sweet perfume. Then a light broke in on her mind, and her heart expanded. Gladly would she have plucked a flower, but she could not overcome her reluctance to break one off. She knew it would so soon fade, so she took only a single green leaf, carried it home, and laid it in her Bible, where it remained ever green, fresh, and unfading. “Between the pages of the Bible it still lay when, a few weeks afterwards, that Bible was laid under the young girl’s head in her coffin. A holy calm rested on her face, as if the earthly remains bore the impress of the truth that she now stood in the presence of God.” Apart from this one, pious soul, the neighbors of the heavenly plant — botanical, animal, and human — continue to despise it. It has grown, by now, to resemble a small tree. Finally, a swineherd comes along, looking for firewood. He cuts it down and burns it. Therefore, they have destroyed the one heavenly plant on all the earth. It is only now that it is gone, that people begin to appreciate its value. The king in that land is afflicted with depression — Andersen uses the antique word, “melancholy.” He is desperately seeking a cure. The king’s wise men know of this odd plant, and suggest he seek it out for its medicinal value. However, alas, when he sends his servants looking for it, there is nothing there but a hole in the ground. (No one knows of the surviving leaf, buried in the girl’s coffin.) All the king can do is to build a golden fence around the spot and post a sentry to guard it. As for the botanist, he writes learned treatises about the plant in professional journals, for which he receives large payment and advances his reputation. It is not hard to see, here, that Andersen is gently lampooning both the church and the discipline of theology for trafficking in things of heaven we barely understand. 

In Andersen’s whimsical vision, when a beneficent plant from heaven falls to earth to grow in common soil, the mean residents of this fallen realm fail to recognize it for what it is. They know it stands out, that it is odd and different, but they have no idea what a wonder has grown up among them. In Andersen’s fable, heaven and earth are separate.  

C.S. Lewis casts a different vision. In his novel The Last Battle, part of the Chronicles of Narnia series, Lewis allows his characters to glimpse heaven from a unique perspective. The victorious lion-king Aslan has triumphed over the forces of evil, but the land of Narnia has been destroyed. The Pevensie children join a host of virtuous humans and animals as they journey across a lovely landscape of grassy fields following Aslan, who has invited them to follow, but who is now so far ahead they can no longer see him. They notice something wondrously strange about the place. It resembles the familiar landscape of Narnia, and yet it is not Narnia. “Those hills,” said Lucy, “the nice woody ones and the blue ones behind — aren’t they very like the Southern border of Narnia?” “Like!” cried Edmund after a moment’s silence. “Why, they’re exactly like. Look, there’s Mount Pire with his forked head, and there’s the pass into Archenland and everything!” “And yet they’re not like,” said Lucy. “They’re different. They have more colors on them and they look farther away than I remembered and they’re more ... more ... oh, I don’t know ...” “More like the real thing,” said the Lord Digory softly. It is a vision of heaven come to earth — inspired, no doubt, by that vision of the golden, gem-studded city of Revelation 21. Yes, in the narrative of the novel, the vision of heaven is still distant and far-removed, but by its resemblance to the more familiar Narnia places, it is a vision of the heavenly city already descended. Lewis explains what the children are seeing, through the words of Lord Digory: “Listen, Peter. When Aslan said you could never go back to Narnia, he meant the Narnia you were thinking of. However, that was not the real Narnia. That had a beginning and an end. It was only a shadow or a copy of the real Narnia which has always been here and always will be here: just as our own world, England and all, is only a shadow or copy of something in Aslan’s real world. You need not mourn over Narnia, Lucy. All of the old Narnia that mattered, all the dear creatures, have been drawn into the real Narnia through the Door. And of course it is different: as different as a real thing is from a shadow or as waking life is from a dream.” 

Lewis’ advice to us, communicated through the characters of this beloved tale, is to look for signs of heaven come to earth. They are all around us for the discerning spiritual eye to discover. We just may be lucky — or blessed — enough to glimpse them, imbedded in the daily routine of life, harbingers of greater glories yet to come.

I offer a brief reflection on the role of tomorrow in Christian life and thought.

Tomorrow, the future, the time that has not yet arrived, is the assurance that the present is never the end of the story. It proclaims that the darkness of today will not survive into tomorrow. 

Tomorrow is the stuff of prophecy. “The days are coming when ...,” proclaimed the prophets. Prophets offered such prophecies during dark and dismal days in Israel’s history when not only the present but also the future looked bleak. Nevertheless “tomorrow” was one way the prophets kept Israel’s faith alive. 

Tomorrow is one of the keys for understanding Christianity, too. We explain it something like this: When you embrace the way of Christ, you enter the rule of God, which is already here in some ways. However, you also inherit the hope of the rule to come, where God’s love and power will have full sway, where God will right all the wrongs and where people no longer experience sorrow or suffering. 

First, finding tomorrow means long-term confidence. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face – forever.[19] Such a vision of the future is one way to live. If human beings oversee the future, it may well be true. Yet, John offers us another possibility. We most often hear about Christianity’s view of tomorrow when we are personally facing sorrow or pain that seems insolvable. “Don’t lose hope,” we say. “There is a better world coming.” “In the end, nothing can separate us from the love of God.” “Tomorrow — some distant tomorrow — you will see your loved one again.” “Tomorrow there will be war no more.” “Tomorrow all violence will cease, and people will live peaceably with their neighbors.” And so on. However, all that wisdom has its basis on an ultimate tomorrow that mystery casts its cloud over so much that it becomes hard to get much out of it when we are dealing with the complexities of the present. God’s tomorrow is the basis for Christianity’s long-term confidence, but the promise of someday seems so far off that it can feel like little more than a dream. At times, the best we can make of the tomorrow factor is to deal with it in a less-than-ultimate way.

During the night of December 9, 1968, theologian Karl Barth died in his sleep. He had spent the entire day working on a lecture. He was still at work in the evening when two telephone calls interrupted him at about 9 o'clock. One was from his godson Ulrich Barth, to whom he quoted a verse from a hymn that spoke comfortingly about the Christian hope. The other person who wanted to speak to him so late at night was his friend Eduard Thurneysen, who had remained faithful to him over 60 years. They talked about the gloomy world situation. Then Barth said, "But keep your chin up! Never mind! He will reign!"[20] What a sign-off. To bed -- to sleep -- to eternity. He will reign!

Second, finding tomorrow means hope within our time. In the early, dark days of World War II, England was ill prepared to defend itself. Night after night, German warplanes repeatedly bombed London. Officials sent many of the city’s children to live with relatives out in the countryside, and the people who remained lived under daily threat. British flyers, seriously outgunned and piloting rickety, outdated planes, took to the air to defend the country, but many did not return alive. One of the most popular songs in England during that time was “The White Cliffs of Dover,” which proclaimed, “There’ll be joy and laughter / And peace ever after, / Tomorrow / when the world is free ... Tomorrow / Just you wait and see.”

While the mood of that song was not unlike that of the reading from Revelation, the tomorrow it had in mind was a temporal, not eternal, one. It was a tomorrow within the lifetime of that generation.

Likewise, one best understands Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, while apocalyptic in cadence and tone, as envisioning a this-world someday. Indeed, at least some pieces of what he dreamed are becoming reality. 

We need to develop a sense of the world like that which Shakespeare expressed: "How many goodly creatures are there here!  How beauteous mankind is!  Oh brave new world that has such people in't.'"[21]

We need to see our world in light of tomorrow. 

It's all holy ground if we look with spiritual eyes
It's all holy tastes if we eat with a spiritual mouth.
It's all holy sound if we hear with spiritual ears.
It's all holy smells if we breathe with a spiritual nose.
It's all holy territory if we have a spiritual touch.
Everything is holy if we feel with our spiritual heart.[22]

 

Forever and always, inside, all around,
Heaven is everywhere heaven is found.
Listen with glad ears, see with love's eyes,
Give wings to your heart, and cherish the prize!
Forever and always we dance to the sound,
For heaven is everywhere heaven is found.[23]

 

Third, finding tomorrow means rediscovering the past. The hope of a future with God and others is not only about the future. It also provides a way of viewing the past and present. It connects Christians now alive with all who went before them. If eternal life is a reality we experience now and hope for in the future, then the communion of saints, the bond of grace between all Christians living and dead, is also a reality for which we joyfully receive as a promise. In fact, the loss of the concept of heaven is also the loss of a companionship we rightly feel with all who have preceded us in the life of faith.[24] Those tomorrows exist somewhere between the “Give us today our daily bread” of the Lord’s Prayer and its “thy kingdom come” petition. It is vital that we see them as just as much God’s time as is the eschaton.

The rule of God is the ultimate tomorrow. It is the goal of history and the reward of the faithful. Its coming is up to God. However, between today and that tomorrow are the nearer tomorrows. We who follow Jesus have the duty to make sure that the doors of justice and society’s benefits are open for all for those tomorrows and that the path to spiritual fulfillment is well marked. 

We should not wait for tomorrow to get started. We can get there from here. 

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[1]           Ford divides the section very differently than the canonical text. For her, verse 8 is after verse 27, as part of “Messianic Jerusalem.” Then comes “Eternal Jerusalem” in 21:1-4c, 21:5a, 4d, 5b, 6, 7. 

[2] Gordon D. Kaufman (Systematic Theology: A Historicist Perspective, 1968, p. 321)

[3] (see the definition of apercomai in Bauer-Danker, A Greek-English Lexicon)

[4] "A man who is not afraid of the sea will soon be drownded," he said "for he will be going out on a day he shouldn't. But we do be afraid of the sea, and we do only be drownded now and again." - John Millington Synge, The Aran Islands, 1907

[5]  -  Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

[6] Barth (Church Dogmatics III.1 [41.2], 148

[7] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 3, 584)

[8] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 3, 33)

[9] Barth (Church Dogmatics IV.2 [67.2], p. 628-9)

[10] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 3.645)

[11] Barth (Church Dogmatics Volume 3.1 [42.3])

[12] Barth (Church Dogmatics III.2 [47.5], 634)

[13] Barth (Church Dogmatics IV.2, 628)

[14] Gordon D. Kaufman (ibid., p. 525)

[15] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 1, 402)

[16] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 2, 140)

[17] Barth (Church Dogmatics II.1 [31.1], 482-3

[18] —N.T. Wright, Revelation for Everyone (Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 187–88.

[19] George Orwell, 1984, 200.

[20] (as quoted in Vernard Eller, Christian Anarchy: Jesus' Primacy Over the Powers [Grand Rapids, Mich.: W. B. Eerdmans, 1987], 158).

[21] The Tempest, V, i, 182.

[22] Adapted from Jonathan Kramer and Diane Dunaway Kramer, Losing the Weight of the World: A Spiritual Diet to Nourish the Soul (New York: Doubleday, 1997), 305

[23] -- Chara M. Curtis, How Far to Heaven? (Bellevue, Wash.: Illumination Arts, 1996).

[24] Laurence Hull Stookey