Preached at Canadochly and Grace on May 12, 2019
Preaching text:
“Who are these, robed in white? These are they who have come out of the great ordeal.” Many years ago, I was doing a Bible Study on the book of Revelation. It was during my internship; It was 1999 and there was great anxiety about the coming millennium. So much riffraff had been thrown about with the year 2000 being the end of the world, people were scared and we channeled that fear into taking a deep long look at the apocalyptic texts in the Scriptures.
This particular verse stuck with me long after that Bible Study concluded and the paranoia that generated it faded in the face of reality. “What was the great ordeal?” That was the question we asked. Many like to believe it is some manner of mass persecution or some other calamity. We came to conclude the calamity was life itself, with all of its trials and struggles and setbacks. Our lives are an ordeal. We have to navigate our way through this crazy world and all that it throws at us.
There isn’t a single one of us that doesn’t struggle in life from time to time. We face tragedy, setback, difficulty. Sometimes it’s of our own creation, the consequence of mistakes made and vices embraced. Other times, it’s completely unfair, pain inflicted by disease or the evil deeds of others or simply bad luck. But none of us gets out of this without a few scars. The world is broken and we suffer for it.
I’m tired. I’m tired of seeing evil win. I’m tired of seeing good people too frightened to fight back. I’m tired of seeing the innocent suffer. I’m tired of wondering what sort of world our children are going to inherit from us and how much worse even still it will probably be. One million species expected to go extinct in the next few decades, perhaps including even the human race. Warmongers and saber rattlers abound across the world, with merchants of hate in our own neighborhoods, spewing their garbage across the internet and the airwaves. To put it mildly, it’s becoming harder and harder to hold onto hope. Unlike the new Avengers movie where the world recovers from the apocalypse thanks to some plucky superhumans and some magic gems, we will not have any such luck. If we die, it’s over. Or at least, that’s how it feels.
Revelation was written to a group of people who were facing the exact same sort of feelings under very similar circumstances. It’s there to remind us that no matter how bleak things may seem, God remains and that he’s going to win.
In fact, that’s the overarching message of all of our texts today. Death claims a beloved disciple, but God’s power revives her. The uncounted thousands and millions upon the Earth who have washed their robes in the blood of Christ and now celebrate life eternal. The Shepherd who carries us through the valley of the shadow of death to green pastures and still waters. The one whose voice we know, who claims us as his own, and who will never leave nor lose us. God wins.
God wins.
That’s really what this season of Easter is all about. Nowhere has ever been more bleak than the hill of Golgotha when Christ was nailed to the cross. That was it. That was the end. God died that day. Evil had truly won, or so it seemed. And yet, from that came the impossible: Christ is risen. Death is defeated. Sin is forgiven. The world would be set right after all.
God wins.
I mentioned the new Avengers movie a few sentences ago. I’m not going to spoil it for anyone who might be interested in seeing it and hasn’t yet, but it’s not hard to guess how the story goes, because all the best stories go this way. The heroes are on the verge of triumph and then suddenly the villains win somehow. The initiative shifts, the momentum turns. A great victory for evil, a terrible setback for good. But then, when all seems lost, the heroes rally and emerge victorious, perhaps with great sacrifice, but in the end they win.
This happens in hundreds of stories. King Arthur, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, comic books, nearly every TV show or movie. Even in romance stories there’s a moment when the lovers are pulled apart and that maybe, just maybe, they won’t end up together after all. Stories wouldn’t be worth telling if we didn’t have that moment of setback. There’s no drama, no stakes. The triumph is meh, meaningless without the struggle. The cross was Satan’s moment where evil almost won, but it was not to be.
And perhaps, that’s what’s happening now. We are in the valley of the shadow of death, with the looming threat of climate change and political unrest, with school and church shooters and economic instability and all sorts of scary things around us. It feels like all is lost. This is the end. This is the moment when evil almost wins, but it will not be.
Because God wins.
Take comfort in that. The Good Shepherd is still by our side, as he always has been. The world has thrown calamity at us before and we have endured thanks to Christ. We will always endure, because there is nothing that this world can do to us that can take us from Christ’s side. We are his and always will be. Are we moving towards the Apocalypse? I don’t know. I do know things feel bleak, uncertain, frightening. But God still wins. The tomb is still empty. Christ is still risen. Amen. Alleluia.
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