The End Before the Beginning

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Revelation 16:17-21

February 4/5, 2012 • Portage First UMC

On my first overseas flight, I tried to sleep, knowing I would need to be rested when we arrived, but those airplane seats are not made for sleeping. So I decided to watch a movie instead, and I flipped the channels until I found Forrest Gump. The movie was about halfway through, so I jumped in and followed the story as best as I could. When it got to the end, the screen announced that in just a few minutes, they would start it over. So the first time I saw Forrest Gump, I watched the ending first and then I watched the beginning. A lot of stuff at the end made more sense once I’d seen the beginning, and I also watched the beginning differently because I knew how everything came out. When my kids were little, we’d sometimes be watching a movie at home and Rachel, in particular, would get scared when the bad guy seemed to be winning. It was nice as a parent to be able to say, “This is a Disney movie, and you remember who always wins in the end?” “The good guy?” she’d say. “Yes,” I assured her, “the good guy will win.” Now, I could say that as a parent because I’d seen the movie. I knew how it came out. I knew everything would be all right in the end, and she believed me because she trusted me.

I’ve heard from several of you for whom the book of Revelation was a frightening book, and you weren’t too sure about entering into it during this series. I kept trying to reassure people that my goal is not to scare the wits out of you, but rather to help us see the hope that is in this book. John, the author, keeps coming back to one singular theme. Over and over again, he reminds us that God knows the end from before the beginning, and the good news is that, no matter how dark it gets here, whether we’re talking about the first century world or today’s world, the end of the story is that God wins. In fact, John is talking about the downfall of the bad guy (Babylon) in this story even before he describes it, because to him, as he’s witnessing this vision all around him, the end is assured before the beginning ever happens. And that, then, ought to color how we see history. No matter how bad it seems to be, the end is assured. God wins.

That doesn’t mean we should approach the darkness of our world with rose-colored glasses, or that we should just follow the doctrine of “don’t worry, be happy.” I’m not suggesting that, because as we’ve seen, John is also very honest about how dark and difficult this world can get. So as we enter into these chapters of the Revelation that really are the endgame for evil, we can do so with honesty. Life is hard, John knows that. But he wants us to see how great God is even the face of terrible and seemingly overpowering evil. I think that’s why all throughout this book there have been songs; the whole Revelation is set in the context of worship (Peterson, Reversed Thunder, pg. 140). And even here, as the world prepares to experience the wrath of God, the people of God sing a song: “Great and marvelous are your deeds, Lord God Almighty. Just and true are your ways, King of the nations. Who will not fear you, Lord, and bring glory to your name? For you alone are holy” (15:3-4).

It’s in that context of worship that the angels come to “pour out the seven bowls of God’s wrath on the earth” (16:1). Now, we’re in territory here that often makes people anxious, upset, fearful or even doubtful. People don’t like to talk about or hear about the “wrath of God.” “We would all much rather live in a world without wrath,” writes Bishop Tom Wright. “We would all much rather imagine a God without wrath” (Revelation for Everyone, pg. 141). When it comes to talking about the wrath of God, we tend to make one of two errors—I think, at different points in my own life, I’ve made both of these. The first is to think of God as arbitrary, just punishing people because he feels like it or he’s had a bad day. This a mean, authoritarian, cruel God—and those who believe in this God tend to become judgmental, critical, vindictive (because we tend to become like the God we believe in). These are the folks who, at the extreme end, protest outside of military funerals, who blame all of America’s ills on this or that social issue, and who bomb abortion clinics. They see themselves, often, as carrying out the wrath of God (because, obviously, God’s not getting around to it fast enough for their liking). Now, we may not do those extreme things, but we do often believe we have the right to judge someone else because we know what God would say to them, right? We’re God’s instrument, God’s mouthpiece. I know I’ve been guilty of that.

The opposite error of that idea is the belief that God’s wrath as something leftover from a less enlightened age. Surely, the God we know couldn’t be like that. He doesn’t exercise wrath, so t

his results in a God who overlooks sin, who just wants everyone to be happy and no one to be disturbed by having to live in a certain way. Following this God makes us into folks who believe that tolerance means everything is permissible, every action and every lifestyle is okay. It results in people who believe God will save everyone, regardless of how they have lived their lives.

Both of those perspectives ignore God’s character as revealed in the Bible. God is steadfast and faithful. God is also holy and pure. God is love, to be sure, but it’s not a sappy, Hallmark kind of love. It’s love that should change us, make us new. It’s a love that loves enough to set boundaries for our good. In our last parsonage, we lived next door to the church, and in front of the house was a county road that was only about a quarter mile long, but for some reason, people who drove it seemed to think it was important to get to 60 miles per hour within that quarter mile. On the west side of the house was highway 231—very busy with lots of trucks and farm equipment traveling along it. Now, there were times, when Christopher was little, that his inquisitive nature took him too close to the road for our comfort, and we would go running after him, pulling him back into the yard. I would say something like, “Do you see that road? You can get hurt there. Don’t go near the road. If you do, there will be consequences.” We loved Christopher enough to set boundaries, for his own good. And we loved him enough to punish him if he crossed those boundaries, to help him learn that there is a way to live that will lead, in fact, to life. Crossing that boundary would not lead to life. Love isn’t love if it says, “Anything goes.” Love—real love—loves us enough to say, “This is the way to life, not that. This is the way.”

Let’s suppose that one of your closest relatives was murdered, and due to diligent police work, the murderer was caught and put on trial. Now, suppose at the trial, the judge says to the murderer, “I know we could punish you, but I’m having a hard time doing that because, you see, your choice to murder may not have been what I choose to do, but who am I to say it was wrong just because I wouldn’t do it?” And suppose the judge let this murderer free because he thought the idea of punishing someone was outdated. Would we consider that judge a good judge? Of course not! The murderer’s crime deserves a consequence, and that’s what a good judge will do. That’s what the Bible means by the “wrath of God.” It’s tied to his love. God’s love enfolds us, but it will not affirm our sinfulness. God’s love confronts us with our brokenness and calls us to transformation. And wrath is the way the Bible describes that response. In many if not most cases, God’s wrath is seen as human evil works itself out toward its own destruction. Think of the evil systems of government, dictators and rulers who abused their own people, and how many of them we’ve seen fall just in the last few years. God’s wrath often is seen in the way evil defeats itself. But there are times, I believe the Bible teaches, when God steps in and calls “time out, enough’s enough.” These bowls of wrath, pictured in Revelation 16, are a mixture of both of those (Wright 142; Mulholland, “Revelation,” Cornerstone Biblical Commentary, Vol. 18, pgs. 545-546).

The first four bowls picture creation itself as the agent of God’s wrath (16:1-9). Land, sea, rivers and springs, even the sun itself—all of the elements are rebelling against those who have misused creation. Genesis 2 says God told Adam (and therefore humanity) to “take care of” creation (2:15). The word there means “to guard, protect, save life.” We are stewards of God’s creation, caretakers in his world, but too often we live and act as if it’s our world to do with as we please. We abuse the world and everything in it rather than steward it, and so John sees creation itself in rebellion, creation turning on humanity because of our failure to do what God called us to do. It’s a natural consequence. Where, in our lives, have we failed to be stewards of the creation God has given us?

The last three bowls picture specific judgments on those who have led people astray—this is the time where God steps in and calls a “time out.” Judgment is poured out on the beast’s throne, on the battlefield, and on Babylon. Now, Babylon in Revelation is a code word for Rome, for the Roman Empire, but in a larger sense, it stands for everything in human history that rebels against God (Smith & Card, Unveiled Hope, pg. 177). Babylon is described as a prostitute, which stands in stark contrast to New Jerusalem, the bride of Christ, the people of God. New Jerusalem represents the faithful followers of the Lamb of God. Babylon is the unfaithful rebel—and is always described as “fallen.” Babylon’s doom is certain even before the story begins. She cannot last because, as John pictures here, she’s always looking for someone else to blame. Her brokenness is society’s fault, or government’s fault, or someone else’s fault. She cannot bring herself to repentance, because repentance begins only when we recognize we are the root of our own problem. Babylon will not admit that, and so she not only falls but she is, by her very nature, fallen (Mulholland 550). She wants nothing to do with God, and so God allows her to rebel, even though it leads to her destruction. It’s the question John has been asking all through the Revelation, only he asks it here in terms of our citizenship. Will you live in New Jerusalem or in Babylon? Will you follow the Lamb of God or rebel against him?

So, ultimately, the wrath of God is not something God pours out just because he can. It’s something we choose, something we bring on ourselves, whether it comes directly from God or as a consequence of our sin. To deny the reality of God’s wrath is to picture a God who does not take our actions seriously, or who does not take us seriously. John Wesley famously said the only requirement to be a Methodist was a “desire to flee the wrath to come.” So denying God’s wrath means we believe Jesus wasted his time on the cross. If there is nothing to forgive, if there is no wrath to avoid, Jesus died for nothing. One author put it: “A God without wrath brought [people] without sin into a kingdom without judgment through the [work] of a Christ without a cross” (qtd. in Wright 141). If there is no judgment of our sin, then there is no hope of forgiveness and God cannot be truly good.

At the beginning of chapter 15, John says these bowls are the “last plagues—last, because with them God’s wrath is completed” (15:1). I know I’ve read that before, but this week when I was studying this section, it hit really hard that there is an end to God’s wrath. It is not something that goes on forever. There will come a day when judgment is done and everything is sorted out once and for all. No matter how much it seems as if evil or Babylon might be winning today, there is coming a day when Jesus returns and evil is done for. There is an end to God’s wrath, and knowing that, knowing the end from the beginning, gives John’s churches hope and encouragement to keep going even when it gets hard—maybe especially when it gets hard. John does give us more a picture of that end in the next section, but it’s a picture that begins here, at a place called Armageddon.

For us, usually, that word is associated with a huge battle at the end of time, but I want us to notice exactly what the text says. The reference for Armageddon is 16:16: “Then they gathered the kings together to the place that in Hebrew is called Armageddon.” That’s it. That’s all John says. Where’s the battle? Well, in some sense it’s fought over the next two chapters as Babylon, which is already defeated, is destroyed. The rebellion against God is ended. But that’s not the typical Armageddon battle we picture. When I was growing up, it was the Soviet Union that was going to war against everyone else. That was what the TV preacher said. Now, it’s sometimes thought to be China or perhaps an Islamic coalition. But, folks, the battle is not between various nations on earth. To picture it that way usually is a way of trying to say, “We’re on God’s side and those ‘others’ aren’t. We’re the good guys, fighting God’s battle.” But the battle doesn’t even really exist because this is actually a judgment—God judging and destroying Babylon, the parts of creation that have been in rebellion against him. The “kings of the earth,” those who are tied in to Babylon (who lament Babylon’s destruction because it’s there they’ve gotten all their wealth), are gathered together not for a battle as John sees it, but for a judgment. In fact, the image we’ll see in chapter 20 is that fire from heaven comes down and consumes them (20:9). There is no battle of Armageddon in the book of Revelation (Witherington, Revelation and the End Times, pg. 56).

Why this image, though? And where is this place? The word “Armageddon” means “hill of Megiddo” and Megiddo is a real place. In fact, it’s one place we’ll visit this summer on our Holy Land trip. It’s a place, many believe, where armies were often housed; there have been stables found there that some believe date back to Solomon’s time. Megiddo was a place where decisive battles were often fought. “From the most ancient times to the time of Napoleon, it was one of the great battle-grounds of the world” (Barclay, Revelation Volume 2, pg. 132). It’s in the north of Israel, inland from Mount Carmel a ways. It was there Deborah defeated the armies of Sihon in Judges 4-5. Two kings of Israel had been killed in battle there—the evil king Ahaziah and the good king Josiah. It continues to be a strategic and highly symbolic location in modern times as it’s a valley where many roads come through—a crossroads of sorts. John uses that image for the final gathering place because, to his Jewish-Christian readers, it would have symbolized a decisive encounter between God and his enemies (Mulholland 551). There is no turning back from a Megiddo moment. And that’s why, as the final bowl is poured out, words reminiscent of Jesus from the cross are heard from the throne: “It is done!” Evil has been dealt with, and it cannot survive. It is done.

The point of all this, as I’ve said from the beginning, is not about prediction—figuring out who’s involved in the supposed battle of Armageddon or when it will take place. Even Jesus said he didn’t know when the end would come (cf. Mark 13:32). The point isn’t prediction—the point is preparation. In the midst of these bowls being poured out, we hear the voice of Jesus saying: “Look, I come like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake and remains clothed, so as not to go naked and be shamefully exposed” (16:15). Now, this is not meant as literal command. It’s not telling us to never sleep or to only rest fully clothed. It’s a call to be spiritually prepared, to be ready for whenever Jesus comes again. Because, he says, there will be no warning. No matter what the books in the Christian bookstore say, there will not be signs telling you when the day is. He will come like a thief. Jesus once told his disciples: “Understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him” (Matthew 24:43-44). There is nothing we can do to change God’s timetable (Witherington 56); the only calling for us is to be ready whenever, to be people of repentance, to be people who are seeking to live the way he would want us to live, to be citizens of New Jerusalem who reject the ways of Babylon. And part of our citizenship is to help others join this kingdom along with us, to invite them to follow Jesus as well.

That was the encouragement to those churches in Asia Minor—be ready, be about the work of the kingdom. It’s still our calling, and so this evening/morning, we want to share another piece of our story, and the ways we’re seeking to look and plan and dream for the future of this church and this community, for the ways we want to grow God’s kingdom here. Last week you heard about one part of that—reaching out through PF Hope. Another piece of that vision is tied to the property we call Crossroads. Take a listen.

VIDEO: Frank Odar

Folks, I continue to believe the best days for our church and this community are still ahead. I believe God has big things in store for us, and has called us to make a difference in this community. But God won’t do it alone. He wants our cooperation in sharing the good news—not out of fear of any sort, not to avoid any supposed Armageddon or bowls of wrath, but because God, as Revelation declares, is good and we want everyone to know him through his son Jesus Christ. And we come to know him, Revelation says, through repentance, through turning around and following the Lamb rather than the dragon. We transfer our citizenship from Babylon to New Jerusalem. We live in his kingdom, and one of the signs of that kingdom is a meal he told his disciples to share often. We come to his table this evening/morning, as an act of humility, as an act of remembrance, as an act of celebration that Jesus the Lamb of God triumphs over all that the world tries to throw at us. It is in his name we take this bread and this cup—to the comfort and encouragement of our souls. It is in his name we eat and drink, for this meal reminds us that he is the hope of the future. He is the reason we exist. And he is the returning king. Amen.