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The Wild Hope of Imagination -- Revelation 21:1-7, 15-24 (7th Sunday After Pentecost)



Photo credit: Scott Clark, used with permission
Photo credit: Scott Clark, used with permission





Have you ever wondered why gay men are drawn to Broadway and Hollywood musicals?

        

Now, most of you probably shouldn’t ask that question out loud.

But I can.  And I have a theory.

        

For many of us in the LGBTQIA+ community (maybe most of us) we have experienced – in one way or another – an experience of being in the closet and coming out. As it is for everyone, the early part of our lives is a journey of self-discovery – figuring out who we are – and how we fit in this world. But at some point, for us, we realize that the world says

that we shouldn’t or can’t be who we are –

that we shouldn’t or can’t love who we love –

that we shouldn’t or can’t live differently than the world expects us to.


And so we hold back part of us – maybe a big part of who we are – and we withdraw (in some way or another) into the closet – where things feel safe, even if they are dimly lit.

        

With some love and courage though, we take a step out of the closet.  We “come out.” We say, “This is who I am. This is who I love.” We find others like us. We find folks who love us, whole communities. We find our place in the world too – even as the powers of the world continue to insist that we don’t – even as the powers back that up with laws and with public scorn – with threats and, sometimes, with violence.

        

I was talking to someone once who didn’t have much patience with musicals. “I mean really,” they said, “They make no sense. Who wants to live in a world where people walk down the street and spontaneously burst into song?”

        

Well, I kinda do.

        

I want to live in a world where people – where everyone – can walk down the street and be exactly who they are – where they – where we – can live into the fabulous fullness of everything that God has created us – created you – created me – to be.

        

You see, for those who have experienced the gray quiet of the closet – and maybe you’ve experienced something like that – for us –


·      We long for that moment in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy’s world goes from black-and-white to Technicolor.


·      We long for that moment in The Sound of Music when children who have been commanded never to sing are invited and encouraged to sing in public – in the streets, in the parks –at dinner parties in the face of Nazi hate.


·      We long for that moment in Hello Dolly! when Dolly Levi steps out of her years of grieving and walks down the steps of the Harmonia Gardens before the parade passes her by.


·      We long for that moment in Rent where an eccentric group of friends living in an isolating age discover 525,600 minutes of love.


·      We long for the whole of Hamilton – where the cast, in their Black and brown bodies, embody and tell the story of American history and sing what it is to be free.


Do you get my point? Because if I’m not careful, I’m going to burst into song.


With all those who have been held down – those of us who have experienced the closet – we long to step out into that better, brighter, more beautiful world – beyond the suffering and the tears – where everyone is whole and healed, fed and nourished, loved and free – even to sing.


That’s what is happening in this wild and extravagant moment in Revelation 21.[1] The skies open revealing an entirely new heaven and a new earth. The new city of God descends sparkling with the colors of sapphire, ruby, turquoise, emerald, topaz, and jade. This new city descends into the midst of us – it’s made up of us – and in it God comes to dwell within the midst of us. A river flows through it from the springs of the waters of life, and all can drink without cost. Death and pain and suffering are no more, and God wipes away every tear. The old order of things is gone. All creation is free.


But the old order didn’t go easily. This moment (in Revelation 21) is a culmination – a culmination of 16 chapters of trial and tribulation.[2] Before we get to these vibrant images of life and liberation – Revelation has brought us through images filled with a whole lot of pain. Over the past few weeks, we’ve looked at the beginning chapters of Revelation – how they the Sovereignty of God embodied in the Lamb upon the throne, how they conveyed seven pastoral letters to the seven churches.


And then, in Chapter 6, the unfolding begins, with 12 seals being broken and wild imagery emerging into plain sight. First there are the horsemen – a white horse for vanquishing, the red horse of war, the black horse of impoverishment, and a pale horse of pestilence and famine – all the destructive power of the powers. We see the martyrs huddling under an altar, as calamities unfurl – earthquakes and gale-force winds. The systems of the old order totter and crack; the people hunger and thirst.


And then there is silence throughout the whole world for 30 minutes.


SILENCE


And then, a series of woes ride in. There is a beast from the sea and a beast from the pit. A cosmic battle begins. There’s a violent nativity – as a woman appears in the sky giving birth, while a dragon lurks ready to pounce – the child is swept away to be hidden from those who would harm. There is a battle in the heavens – the powers of evil are thrown to the Earth where they rampage.


 And then God says: “No more.” We see Rome imaged as Babylon and all the kings who courted her – all the powers. And suddenly – this is the story not only of Rome, but also of the captivity in Babylon, and the Exodus from Egypt – all spun together – the story of every power that has ever raged. The powers turn on each other. Babylon falls – and with her every king. And while all this is happening – angel choirs sing: “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to God! For God is sovereign! Let us rejoice and be glad!”        


And a rider on a white horse arrives – with a robe dipped in blood – king of kings and lord of lords, the choirs sing. This is Jesus. And every bit of evil – everything that has hurt and harmed – is thrown into a lake of fire. The old order is ... no more.

All that... all that... culminates in this morning’s Scripture – as the skies open revealing this new heaven and this new earth.


Now, when we first stepped into Revelation, I said that there is a prevalent reading that looks at all this as a roadmap of a future yet to come. Think for a moment, though, of John of Patmos.... sitting on that island – separated from those seven communities that he loves – living under empire, and its systems of violence, suppression, and economic deprivation. These wild images are describing the world they know.


All this war and suffering. This is what the powers do. Ask the people living in slavery in Egypt. Ask the people taken into captivity in Babylon after Jerusalem has burned to the ground. Ask the people who just saw Rome tear the second temple down. Ask those who dare to say that Caesar is not king. And, on down through history, ask all those who have ever known the blunt force of power over. This is the world... as it is.


But we know... John of Patmos writes... we know that God is sovereign over all this... more powerful than the most malevolent power... the Lamb who enters into our suffering, who wipes away every tear... who is sovereign from there, birthing a new creation even now.


Let’s look... and see the world being birthed in the bright and resplendent imagery of Revelation 21. The skies open and there is a new heaven and a new earth.


Notice that the sea is gone. That might seem strange. But remember, in their day, the sea is a place of danger.[3] Think of John of Patmos on that island – separated from those he loves – by the sea.[4] In this vision of a new heaven and a new earth, there is no sea. There is no more danger. There is no separation.


There’s not even separation between heaven and earth. This city of God descends, and God makes their home in the midst of the people. (The word there is that God “pitches their tent.”) There is no Rapture in Revelation – people aren’t swept up away from the Earth – God comes to dwell in the midst of all creation.[5] Notice it is a city – not a bucolic field of dreams – but a complex tapestry of human relationship – all knit up together, thriving.[6]


It does have a 200 ft wall around it – which might make us think that folks are still walled out. But it is a 200 foot wall around a city that is 1200 stadia tall – that’s 1500 miles tall. And a 200 ft wall. Defensive walls are no longer needed because there is no danger, no enemies, no threat, no oppression.[7] The city is imaged as unimaginably big – big enough to hold “an innumerable multitude” of people.[8] There is room enough for us all. And the gates are always open. And the gemstones – the sparkle – the color – ruby, sapphire, topaz, onyx, amethyst. This vision is in technicolor.[9] This is a world better, brighter and more beautiful than the suffering the world is experiencing then and now.


Look at what’s not there. Death is no more. There will be no more grieving or crying or pain. No more suffering. No more hunger or thirst. There is water without cost from the spring of the water of life. No more tears. God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.


Revelation grounds us in the sovereignty of God, speaks of the world as it is now, and then gives us this vision of this new heaven and new earth being birthed even now. As one writer puts it, this vision is meant to offer “God’s vision of a future we can live right now... [We see] a city of healing and hope more real than reality itself.”[10] As another writer says, “John of Patmos offers future visions that have a present ethical purpose.” [11]

This is the world God is birthing. Live it now.


I want to invite us to imagine what that might look like. So settle in. And picture in your mind the world as it is now. If it helps, close your eyes. The news these days is filled with images of the suffering in the world. And if you can, go there for a moment, and stand there. We’ve seen those images – Ukraine, Gaza – the starving children. Stand for a moment in the rubble – and see a river that flows from the springs of life, bringing

living water that has no cost. Imagine trucks full of food rolling in, through checkpoints and blockades. Imagine children who are famished being fed and nourished. Medical supplies so that nurses and doctors can bring healing where there is harm. Imagine no more violence, no more bombs. Rebuilding.. rebuilding streets to live in. With your healing imagination, imagine that power more powerful than all the powers that do us harm.


But what can I do? we ask. Church & Society and Tom McAfee have put in the Friday email a link to a GoFundMe where we can give directly those who are working to deliver food to those who are being starved. Tuesday night, Dave spoke at presbytery on behalf of the Session of this church, urging our presbytery, our denomination to say that the mass displacement and starvation of the people of Gaza is genocide, to reject every kind of hate antisemitism/Islamophobia, and to take action to stop the harm.


Stand for a moment amid the families in this country terrified by the specter of masked ICE agents tearing families apart. Imagine a world where there is no separation, no danger, no threat. What can I do? we ask. “Here is a guest room, a place of safe shelter.”


No one of us can face the powers alone. But together, in Christ, we can live toward a world of healing and hope more real than the reality we see now.


This vision of the new heaven and a new earth – it’s not just for the big issues of our day – it is about every quiet moment of human pain. The moments when we hurt – and grieve. See God dwelling in the midst of us, in us and with us, in this moment and forever, all of us together, in this city of vibrant color and light and life – where there is no longer any death or mourning or crying or pain, where God wipes away every tear.

This is the world we are living for – drawn together in Jesus Christ and empowered by the Spirit to work together to make it so.


Imagine John of Patmos – on that desert island – writing to these communities he loves. We know what the powers do, and we know that they will not go easily, that the powers thrive on pain. And we know that God is Sovereign in Jesus Christ – and that in Jesus Christ God is birthing a new heaven and a new earth.


Watch as John of Patmos writes,

So lift your head,

and step on out from the shadows into this new world

and live, and love, and thrive, and sing.


To the Alpha and Omega. To the one who says to all the powers: Enough. To the one who makes their home with us and wipes away every tear.  To the one who was, and is, and is to come. All glory and honor and power forever and ever. Amen.



© 2025 Scott Clark


[1] For background on the Book of Revelation and these texts, see Brian K. Blount, Revelation: A Commentary (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009); Catherine Gunsalus González & Justo L. González, Revelation (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997); Eugene H. Peterson, Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination (San Francisco, CA: HarperOne, 1988); Barbara R. Rossing, The Rapture Exposed: The Message of Hope in the Book of Revelation (New York, NY: Basic Books, 2004); Christopher C. Rowland, “The Book of Revelation,” New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. xii  (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1998).

[2] See González & González, supra, for an accessible commentary on these chapters; see also Rossing, p.142 (“The key is to keep reading all the way through... to the ultimate vision.”).

[3] See González & González, p. 137: Rowland, pp. 720-21.

[4] See id.

[5] See Rossing, p.147; Blount, p.378.

[6] See González and González, p.141; Blount, pp.377-78.

[7] See González and González, p.141.

[8] See Blount, p.389.

[9] See Peterson, p.179.

[10] See Rossing, pp.141-46.

[11] See Blount, p.374.




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