Seeing God Now and Eternally - Revelation 21:22-27

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Rev. 21:22-27.

The hot rocks burned against Moses’ cheek and the sharp stone dug into his bearded skin. He desperately wanted to see Who was behind him, but when he tried to move, the hand holding his face against rocks pressed even harder. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it wasn’t comfortable, either. Moses was helpless. All he could see was the stone of the mountain, inches from his eyes. 

God had even declared, “I know you by name and you have found favor in my sight.” Moses humbly requested so that he might continue to find favor in God’s sight, Moses wanted the assurance of seeing God’s presence, His face, His glory. He would know what God was like. He wanted to know face-to-face whom he was serving. 

God, in His mercy, could not grant Moses’ desire. “No one can see my face and live,” he had told Moses. So, God did the next best thing. He would allow Moses to see his back, to receive a glimpse of God. After God passed by Moses, when His countenance – his frontal, facial profile – passed by, only then did God release Moses’ head from the side of the mountain. Moses was able to see God’s back. He couldn’t see God’s face, but the back, the back of God was enough.

I empathize with Moses because there are days I wish I could see God’s physical presence, too; that I could know His face and His glory. I suspect most pastors have this wish – not because we’re selfish or we think we deserve a special audience. Frankly, my desire is out of weakness, more than anything else. In a sense, pastors follow in the footsteps of Moses, pastoring this flock of Zion, and do a lot of Moses-like things: praying for God’s people; encouraging and supporting in this journey where faith and life intersect – sometimes on a crash course; reading, studying and interpreting God’s Word for His people and with His people; walking alongside in sickness and in health, in life and even to death. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a joy – truly – to be a pastor and to serve in this place.

But there are days… When life comes heavy for me, and I see the hurt and loss and pain you endure; when I doubt my faithfulness in this vocation; when a sermon isn’t coming, or when a discussion is tense, or when I have to speak a hard word of Law against a brother or sister in Christ. And when I make a mistake – or, to be more blunt – when I sin against my wife, my kids, against you and I do what I want instead of what God would have and that’s when I realize just how Moses-like I am. In those moments, when I feel low, discouraged, and a failure in this vocation, in those moments I wish I could see God face-to-face and hear a word…just a word…of encouragement.

And I don’t think I am alone. I suspect you feel this way at times, too, in your places, in your homes, in your workplaces, in your vocations. If I dare claim a parallel between myself and Moses, you can certainly claim a parallel between yourself and Israel. If you could just see God – just for a moment – then you would know it’s going to be OK.

So, you come to the Lord’s House on a Sunday because you, like Moses, need to see God. You need to know that God knows you by name and you have favor in His sight. But how can you dare approach God to see Him? 

Like those ancient Galilleans who pleaded with Phillip, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” With the burdens of life weighing on you, you come to this holy house, joined by fellow sinners who, likewise, need to see Jesus. You know that your sins separate you from God because they are detestable in His eyes. You, like Moses, cannot see God and live. But you come…you come, repenting of what you have done against your spouse and your kids and your neighbor, while trusting, in faith, that there is One who died for you and gave Himself for you to redeem, save, to sanctify and make you holy so that you can see God. 

And here, you do see a glimpse of God. You hear the Word read and preached that declares sin to be forgiven in Christ. You see the font and remember you have been washed clean of your sins, your name changed from sinner to saint, from unclean to Christian. You touch and taste the body and blood of Christ which was given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins and the strengthening of faith in Him as your Savior.

By God’s grace, through faith in Christ, we know and believe that this is true. But we also know that we are seeing the picture through eyes that are still covered with the cataracts of fallen people and can only see God through the glaucoma of a fallen world. 

Think of a little girl who dresses up in her mommy’s nice dress, puts on all of her costume jewelry, and lets her feet fall into her mommy’s shoes and then pretends to be a beautiful princess bride. She’s pretending, yes – but she’s looking forward to the day of her wedding. That’s a picture of faith. It’s a picture of what we, as the church, are looking forward to. 

John was the last of the apostles. The other eleven had all been martyred. The physical church, which is to say, the people of God, were being scattered across the world, persecuted and prosecuted because of the name of Jesus. He, John, was isolated, exiled to the land of Patmos. With prayers for the churches scattered and for the people of God who clung to the name of Jesus, the Holy Spirit allowed John to see this picture – both for the strengthening of his own spirit, but also for yours and mine as well.

St. John reminds us in this morning’s Epistle that the day is soon coming when we will see Jesus face-to-face. But before we see Him, He sees us: the church – not as a ragtag, scattered mishmash of people who struggle through this world, but as a beautifully adorned bride. She is claimed by her husband, Christ, who takes her and makes her His. She is washed and made holy in the blood of the Lamb and, just as a bride is adorned and covered with beautiful garments, the Church is adorned with the glory of Christ. Jesus’ glory is so overwhelming, so overcoming, so overpowering that the Church shines with the radiance of His splendor, as if she were the most precious, beautiful jewel you could possibly imagine. The Church is Christ’s bride; Christ is the Church’s Bridegroom.

And, here, united with Christ, the Church will see God. Not His back, mind you, but you are able to see Him wholly and holy. The entirety of heaven, in the resurrection, centers around the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb. The Father and the Son, together, who is worshipped and glorified on earth will shine with such radiance and glory in the resurrection that we will no longer need the light of the sun. 

In the resurrection, you will be able to see God and live because you will no longer be sinners and saints. You will be only saint, holied in the holiness of the Bridegroom. You – unlike Moses – will not need to have your face shoved into the stone wall, hoping for just a glimpse of God’s back. You will see God and you will live into eternity with Him.

Earlier, I said we sometimes feel that if you could just see God – just for a moment – then you would know it’s going to be OK. But, we were left with the conundrum: But how can you dare approach God to see Him? 

God comes to you face-forward. He doesn’t hide Himself. In fact – I’ve always considered this fascinating – God blesses His people with His face. We call it “The Benediction.” In a demonstration of His mercy and grace, God places His face, His countenance, on His people. So when you need to see God’s face, so you know that He faces toward you, so you know He is kindly and mercifully disposed toward you, He gives this blessing:

The Lord bless you and keep you.
The Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you His peace.

Amen.

No More Tears! Revelation 21:1-7

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Epistle, Revelation 21:1-7.

I wonder when the first tears of sorrow were shed. Did Adam cry when he realized that they had just destroyed the perfection of creation with their forbidden snack? Did Eve cry when Adam looked at her, pointed his finger at her with shame, and then looked at God and said, “You gave her to me!” Did they weep together as they left the paradise of Eden behind?

Maybe tears happened the first time when Adam and Eve saw death. When they realized they were naked, they wrapped themselves up in fig leaves while trying to hide from God. It didn’t work, of course. God quickly found them, spoke to them, chastised them, but then promised that He would rescue them with the Seed of Eve who would crush satan’s head. And then, right before He drove them from the Garden, He clothed them with animal skins.

These weren’t picked up at Sakowitz’ Fine Furs on Post Oak in Houston. They were clothed with skins came from an animal. An animal that had been living. An animal that Adam had named. An animal that Adam and Eve enjoyed living with. An animal that God had made to live. God took that animal He made and He killed it and He skinned it and He clothed Adam and Eve with it. And every time Adam and Eve’s skin sensed the animal’s skin, they would have to remember their sins caused that animal’s death. 

The animals died for them. The animals died because of them. I can only imagine the tears that flowed because of that knowledge.

But, most of all, the tears would have started when they realized that their perfect, face-to-face relationship with God was destroyed. No longer would they have the personal, full knowledge of His desires or experience His love and mercy in the same way. Yes, they would still know Him; yes, they would still receive grace and mercy, but the perfect relationship was now broken. The peace that they had with God, the wholeness, was now shattered. 

I admit that I am taking a bit of preacher’s creative license. There is no way to know whether Adam and Eve cried at all, let alone in any of those moments. But I do know that our world has been marked with tears since that day of the fall. Whatever tears they shed, whether in the garden our outside it, our tears mingle with theirs of old. 

It begins with a mother’s tears of pain in childbirth and continues with the tears we experience throughout life. Our eyes have been made wet with tears as our bodies are wracked with pain of skinned knees, and hurt from surgery and diseases that destroy flesh. Tears run down the cheeks as minds become troubled and burdened with the hardships of life. Tears flow as souls struggle with what it is to be a faithful child of God in an unfaithful world. We cry tears of shame and guilt because our consciences are burdened with memories of what we have done and failed to do towards God and neighbor, and we have shed tears because of what others have done to us, both knowingly and accidentally.  Tears flow hot when we see our children hurt and we quietly sob as we watch our parents grow old and frail. And we have wept, knowing that even as baptized children of God, who are saved by grace through faith, we still sin against Him in what we think, say and do. We know the tears of not having the perfect relationship. And, we know the burning tears that come when we experience the sting of death as we stand in front of the grave of a loved one, a family member, a friend. 

And some days, it feels as if the tears will never stop.

That’s why this morning’s Epistle is so important for us, as God’s people, to hear read again and again. 

If there was anyone who could have lost Easter hope, if there was another man who understood tears of pain, it was John. He had heard Jesus’ promise to return; he saw Jesus ascend. He waited faithfully for over forty years for Jesus, but He had not yet returned. Now, John was the last of the Twelve Apostles. All the rest had been martyred. He watched the church of Jerusalem, which began so promisingly on Pentecost, be persecuted and prosecuted and scatter across what is today the Middle East and into Northern Africa and Southern Europe. And while this was happening, he could do nothing except write these young, fleeing Christians because he was exiled away on the island of Patmos, far away from Jerusalem, far away from the rest of the church and God’s people. Cut off and isolated, it would have been easy for John to sit and weep and grieve.

Instead, the Holy Spirit gave John this incredible revelation, this picture of what the resurrection of all flesh will be like. It was for John, yes; but it is for all of us as well, a visible, prophetic picture that the destruction and pain and loss that John was experiencing and that you and I know in life was – quite literally – not the end of the world. 

John saw the new heavens and the new earth, the new Jerusalem, the Church, in all of her glory, standing before the Father, having been redeemed in the blood of Jesus. The picture is one of restoration and re-creation. The revelation grows and swells into a great crescendo as God declares: “Behold, I am making all things new.” Creation will be returned to an even greater glory than was present in Eden. Peace will be restored and the relationship between God and His people will once again be made whole and perfect and He will once again dwell among His people. 

God “will dwell with His people.” Realize the power of that statement. It takes more than the death of an animal for this restoration. This takes the sacrifice of the perfect Lamb of God. This Lamb knows the burn of tears. He dwelled among us and experienced the pain and loss and hurt, even the sting of death of friends and his own death. From Adam and Eve’s forbidden bite all the way to the last sin-marked thoughts you and I have, Jesus dies for them all. From the tears of childbearing to the sting of death that you and I will one day face, Jesus defeats all of sin’s powers over us. With His own grave opened on Easter morning, this will be our Easter morning and we will be raised whole and holy.  

And God will wipe away every tear from our eyes. In the resurrection, sin, death and the grave – all which were defeated at Jesus’ own Good Friday death and Easter resurrection – they will be forever conquered. All of the consequences of the fallen world, which you and I know so well, will be gone. Pain, hurt, agony – all of those things that cause tears - they will all be gone. Death will cease. And without death, the mourning and crying – and the tears – will no longer exist. 

 We get a taste of that today. God does, indeed, dwell among us. In Christ, God tabernacles among us – in Baptismal water and preached Word; in bread and wine Christ’s Body and Blood are present. And you get a foretaste of the feast to come as you eat and drink together, united with brothers and sisters who all sit at the foot of the throne of God and wait for this blessed day to come.

The church calendar says we are still in the days of Easter, but already our day of Easter is five weeks ago. The worldly reminders – the candy, the bunnies, and the eggs – are long gone. Even in the church, it feels like Easter has been put away. The lilies are long gone; the hymns don’t seem as powerful; the cries of “Christ is risen” are silenced. I think we sometimes forget the hope that is ours because of the resurrection. That is why we hold fast to God’s promise, “It is done.” Even though John is seeing what is to come, God declares this to all be complete. This is the power of the promises of God. Even though we are in the not-yet, still waiting for the restoration and the new heaven and the new earth to be revealed for us, we live in the promise of God: “It is done.” 

“It is done.” That’s what Jesus said from the cross, remember? It is finished. Sin, conquered. Death, defeated. Sin, atoned. Heaven, opened. Peace, restored. And you, clothed – not in the skin of an animal, but wrapped in the righteousness of Christ, made white in the blood of the Lamb.

The Greeks, The Messiah, and Un Buen Pastor – John 10:22-30

“If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Talk about a loaded request. And it happens at a most unique time: at the Feast of Dedication.

Roughly 200 years earlier, around 166BC, Israel was a vassal in the Greek Empire. The Greeks wanted to Hellenize the world and, as a result, no other religion or religious practices were tolerated. So, Israel was forced to worship the Greek gods and goddesses – Zeus, Apollo, Hermes, just to name a few – and even Israel’s temple was scandalized by being used for worship of Zeus, the altar desecrated by sacrifices to him, and all of the sacred vessels for worship of God were likewise misused. 

There was a faithful, God-fearing family of Israelites called the Maccabees who finally had enough. Their name means “hammer,” and they began to hammer against the Greeks, leading a rebellion to overthrow and eliminate the Greeks from Israel. Finally successful, they set about making Israel God-fearing worshippers again. The temple was ritually cleansed. The desecrated altar was removed, destroyed, and then replaced along with new worship furnishings. Finally, it was time to rededicate the temple. Oil candles were placed in the Holy Menorah, the 8-fingered candelabra, but only enough sacred oil was found for one day’s use. Not wanting to wait the necessary eight days for new oil to be consecrated, the candles were filled, the flames were lit, and miracle of miracles, the candles did not burn out for eight days. Thus, the great tradition of the Feast of Dedication – or as we know it today, Hannukah – began.

That was the festival that Jesus, the Disciples, and all Jews were celebrating: the re-dedication of the Temple by the Maccabees. It is no small thing that St. John places Jesus in the Temple – specifically in Solomon’s colonnade – during this festival, because that helps set up and introduce the tension that’s present. It’s brought to a head with the question, “Are you the Messiah?” In other words, are you the Son of David that we have been expecting? The Jews see the parallels:  Two hundred years earlier, Israel was under Greek rule; in Jesus day, under Roman rule. The Greeks were heathens; the Romans were heathens. The Greeks had Israel under their thumbs; the Romans ruled Israel with disdain. Just like 200 years earlier, Israel was again looking for Messiah - a warrior Messiah, a Maccabee-like Messiah who was going to re-establish Israel and get rid of the Romans.

This is why their question is so important: Is this you, Jesus? Are you the Messiah? Are you the Christ? Are you going to do what we expect? 

Jesus’ answer isn’t what they expect. It’s not a simple yes or no. Instead He says, “Pay attention to what I am doing!” He’s been performing miracles, like Moses, feeding 5000. He’s been healing the sick, like Elijah. His works demonstrate who He is! He is from God. But His words show Him not just to be from the Father but to be, in fact, the promised one: the Messiah, the Christ; yes – the Son of David.

But they don’t get it. They can’t get it. They’re not of the sheep. They self-excluded themselves from the fold, refusing to submit to this one who was born of Mary, descended not just from David, but from of God. He is Messiah, but not the Messiah they expect. He is coming to be the Shepherd. Not just a shepherd, but The Shepherd. And because He’s not the kind of Messiah they expect, not the kind of Shepherd they want, they cannot accept, they cannot believe, they will not listen, they will not see, and they cannot follow.

Too often we misunderstand this shepherd picture. We have a simple, soft, romantic picture of Jesus as a divine Little Boy Blue. He’s traipsing through lush green grass, a staff in one hand, and the other holds a baby lamb in his arm. Don’t get me wrong: there are times this picture of Jesus is exactly what we need – when we face the valley of the shadow of death, for example. 

But there are other times when we misunderstand this image of Jesus that we get ourselves in trouble with simplistic thinking. What I mean is this picture of Jesus is one we can handle. We’re comfortable with this picture of him. And we make this idea of the Good Shepherd out to be the kind of Messiah we want. In a sense, we neuter Him and take away His power and authority so that He’s neither threatening nor judging. He becomes nothing more than understanding. 

And this, then, becomes our escape when we make our Shepherd out to be, well, our Shepherd, not God’s. We justify the choices we make and actions we do by saying Jesus understands. Sexual sins? Living together without being married, adultery, homosexuality? Jesus understands.  Slandering the boss, spreading rumors about a co-worker, skipping out while still on the clock? Jesus understands. Cheating on an exam, drawing ugly caricatures of your teacher, skipping class? Jesus understands. Telling your parents off, swearing at your kids, fighting with your brother or sister? Jesus understands. As long as we make Jesus out to be the Shepherd-Messiah we want Him to be, literally in our own image, we’re no better off than those first-century Jews who wanted Jesus to be their political savior. At best, we create a Messiah as sympathizer; at worst, an enabler. There is nothing good about that kind of good shepherd. 

Jesus understands, yes, but not that way. Sins cannot just be understood; they must be repented of and paid in full. He understands what the Messiah must do to rescue, redeem and save. It’s not going to be riding into battle like David to rule on a throne in Jerusalem. It will take a King who is willing to die.

In the Old Testament, the shepherd image is one that is used for kings, kings whose job it is to stand watch over Israel. So, for example, in Ezekiel 34 when God says He will get rid of the shepherds, he doesn’t mean the herdsmen of the hillside. He means the unfaithful kings and wicked rulers of the people. They will be removed and, even more, destroyed because of their unfaithfulness and He, God, will Himself shepherd the people. So, when you hear Good Shepherd, hear Good King. This is a King who will rule in a good, just way. He is the King who judges wisely. The things that He showed in His ministry, these are the things that the Good King, the Good Shepherd will do: He will care for His people; He will feed His people; He will clothe His people; He will protect His people. In His life and ministry, as He pointed out to the Jews, He is doing all of these things. But there is something yet to come.

This King, this Shepherd, this Messiah will die for His people. Jesus’ battle isn’t with the Hittites and Jebusites and Alamakites; it’s with sin, death and the devil. The battle will take place outside of Jerusalem, just outside the city walls. The Good Shepherd will have a staff in His hand, placed there in mockery. His soft robes will be stripped from His body and He will be nailed to His throne in nakedness and shame, not in glory. His rule will be in humility and weakness, not in strength and majesty. But in that weakness is strength, for His power is made perfect in weakness. He surrenders, not to satan, but to His Father’s will, and He is the perfect, once-for-all-sacrifice for the sins of His sheep, His people. 

The gift of the Good Shepherd, the Good King, is eternal life for all who are of His flock, who hear His voice and in repentant faith, trust His life, death and resurrection for their sins, for your sins, for my sins. And the Good King, the Good Shepherd, gives you His pledge: no one – neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither things present nor things to come, neither height nor depth nor anything else in all creation – will separate you from His Father’s hand. 

And moms: today as we give thanks to God for you and the gift of motherhood, I want to remind you that the Good Shepherd is particularly fond of women who share the same vocation as His own mother.  He forgives you for the times you were angry with your husbands and you swore at your children; the times you felt that you failed to live up to expectations; the times when you made mistakes; the times you weren’t the perfect mother. A mother’s sins are forgiven fully and completely. As an aside, God doesn’t call you to be perfect mothers. He calls you to be faithful mothers, rearing and teaching your children – no matter what age you are or they are – the fear and knowledge of the Lord. Do this both in words and in actions. And, when you fail, then also teach them the need for repentance and the power of forgiveness, both for yourself and for your family as well.

To make sure you know, believe, trust and rely that this is all true, the Good Shepherd makes sure you are still able to hear His voice still today. 

I remember when I was in high school, driving through Georgetown and passing a church whose sign was written in Spanish: La Iglesia del un Buen Pastor. I thought, boy – is that guy arrogant. The church of the Good Pastor. I told my Spanish teacher about that and made a wise-crack about the pastor being rather highly opinionated about himself. That’s when she told me in Spanish, pastor means shepherd. It actually comes from Latin. I tell you this story because it is the perfect reminder of what the church is for: to be the place where the voice of the Good Shepherd is heard. Luther once called the church “The Mouth-House,” meaning it’s where the voice of the Good Shepherd sounds forth with all of it’s truth and power.  

And, when you come, you ask, “Is this the Messiah?” And through the Word that is read and preached, in Baptismal water and in bread and wine, Jesus will say that these all bear witness about Him. They will tell you that He is God’s Messiah who came to be our Good Shepherd, our Good King.