Readings: Jer 32:36-41; Ps 33:1-11; Rev 5:6-11; Jn 21:1-14
Have you ever thought about what it would be like if you woke up one morning and Christianity has been outlawed?
Let us take it a notch higher: What would you do if you heard a government official over the radio decreeing that from now on, everyone in this country will worship the president? And that those who reject the decree would be killed or banished to an inhabitable island in the middle of nowhere—maybe Kalangala or some rocky island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?
What would you do? How would you feel?
Remember you may have the security of a well-paying job, a family that loves you—probably a beautiful spouse, adorable children, amazing friends, a fulfilling social life, a house, a parcel of land—'kyaapa mu ngalo’, a promising career, a thriving business, and even a caring church family. In short, you may be living a ‘promising’ life.
Now, as a Christian, you are commanded to renounce your faith in Jesus and instead prostrate before some politician who only matters because he won an election based on promises he will never fulfil or one that is in leadership because he was willing to pick up guns and shoot at those who were in power before him. That person is now your god. You either bow or suffer the consequences.
In not worshipping that politician you lose everything, maybe your life as well.
What would you do? Would you, in light of your promising life, decide that the cost is too much? Or would you give up everything, starve to death on a rocky island in Kalangala, and become lunch for the vultures there?
This is a hard question for us, especially in our culture of accumulation.
John was there
For John, it was not a question he read in a sermon notes newsletter on his sophisticated handheld device. This was the reality he found himself facing.
After enforcing emperor worship in the Roman empire, John’s faithfulness in Jesus was rewarded with banishment to an island called Patmos. There he was, separated from his loved ones, work, and all the dreams he had. It was illegal to profess Christ, something our generation takes for granted.
It was on this Island that he received the vision of the throne room of heaven (see Rev. 4). In our text today, he sees something else: a scroll in the right hand of God, who sat on a throne. This scroll which has seven seals is symbolic of God’s plan of redemption. The number seven as you probably already know is representative of completion or perfection. The scroll, therefore, is God’s perfect plan of redemption.
But there is a problem. No one is worthy to open the scroll or look inside it. No one in heaven, on earth, and even below the earth. And John weeps. He wails, actually.
“Then one of the elders said to me, “Stop weeping! Look, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered; thus he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” (v. 5) After, John says he saw a [little] Lamb which looked like it had been slain, and this Lamb was standing at the centre of the throne. When he (the Lamb) walks to the One seated on the throne and takes the scroll from his hand, global worship breaks out.
They were singing a new song:
“You are worthy to take the scroll
and to open its seals
because you were killed,
and at the cost of your own blood you have purchased for God
persons from every tribe, language, people, and nation.
You have appointed them as a kingdom and priests to serve our God, and they will reign on the earth.” (vv 9-10)
For John, the revelation of the One worthy to open the scroll was enough to invoke a song of worship. This little Lamb—the paschal mystery—brings all of heaven to its knees in worship.
John had given up everything, even his comfort for trust in Jesus Christ. What he needed at this moment, on the cold mosquito-infested island was the assurance that he was not toiling in vain; that his faith was sure. His weeping became joy when he saw the Lamb who looked like he was slain.
The theology of ‘Jesus as a lottery ticket’
When you look at the throne of heaven, what do you see? Pause and think about it. Imagine the throne of heaven, what do you see there? Is whatever you see worthy of your worship and adoration? Is it Jesus, or something else?
Are you able to worship Jesus Christ based on his shed blood alone? This might sound obvious to you but it's not. A simple survey of the programs and sermon series in your church will tell a different story. What is your church committed to? A friend told me that there is a ‘pastor’ in town who says he cannot associate with anybody who doesn’t have at least seven income streams. What do you think this ‘pastor’ sees when he looks at the throne of heaven?
You spend time in some of your churches listening to sermons on how to be great, rich, and people of influence. Your pastors exude a grandeur both in posture and words that would make John cringe. Still, sometimes you have a more fervent prayer life when you have a material need. There must be a whole department of Angels in heaven to attend to the prayers of broke people.
Some churches are so attuned to the ways of this world that the idea of salvation through a little slain Lamb is not so appealing. A God whose choice is a Lamb, not an elephant, who turns to the weak not the mighty, and is kind to victims is so irrelevant that some churches choose to read their sinful desires into the scriptures. Whenever they see the word “rich” in their bibles, they interpret it as God willing that they get as much bitcoin as their wicked hearts desire. By the way, soils can also be rich in infertility. You can also be rich in generosity (2 Cor 8:2), and even poor in spirit (Matt 5:3), it does not always translate to banknotes.
A person who sees Jesus as a lottery ticket can never find meaning and purpose in blood as God’s currency to buy back hard-hearted, self-seeking sinners.
What we give ourselves [to] reveals our perceived need
The challenge with the theology of Jesus as a lottery ticket is that it dumbs down who Jesus is and, in the process, downplays humanity’s greatest need.
The four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fall down and worship the slain Lamb because they are aware of who he is. John specifically knows that if the redemptive plan of God cannot be opened, he is to be pitied.
The height of the pandemic a year ago taught us the futility of life. Many saw everything they had worked for vanish in thin air. We lost loved ones. People starved to death; others saw their 14-year-old daughters become mothers. When death stares you in the face, a commodified, lottery ticket Jesus becomes worthless. Because, in your faith, where the rubber meets the road, all you will need is a dying, resurrecting, scroll-opening, blood-buying Jesus. When the choice is between life and death, the blood of the lamb becomes valuable.
This slain Lamb has purchased us with his blood to belong to his Kingdom for his service alone. We serve him alone, even our worship ought to be in service to him. We worship because he has purchased us not with bitcoins, but with his blood.
Shall we be judged and tried?
in Christ our trial is done;
we live, for he as died,
our condemnation gone;
in Christ we are
both dead and raised,
alive and free—
his name be praised!
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
Amen.
Amen