St. John’s Episcopal Church
Tallahassee, FL

Revelation 7:9–17
Revelation 22:17–21

This sermon was part of The Year of the Bible—a yearlong initiative in which all sermons, classes, and formation for all ages followed a parish-wide journey through the entire Bible. With the bishop’s permission, we used a custom lectionary: two readings drawn from that week’s section of Scripture, plus a psalm and the regularly appointed gospel of the day.

Well, my friends, this is it.
Today is the last day of 
St. John’s “Year of the Bible,”
our nine-month trek as a parish
through the entire Bible.

It all started back in August with Miqra,
when we read the entire Bible aloud as a parish family
over the course of one weekend,
turn by turn,
reader by reader,
chapter by chapter,
book by book.

And today, it all culminates
as we come to the final word
in the final paragraph
in the final sentence
at the end of the book of Revelation.

For some of you
this has been an intensive, year-long slog . . .
a full reading
through the whole, entire Bible.
Gold stars for you.

For others of you,
it has been a lighter journey,
picking up and keeping up
as you were able.

And for many of us,
perhaps we were just able
to catch a few nuggets on Sunday mornings.

But here’s what I hope.
I hope you’ve learned at least one new thing
that you didn’t know before.
I hope you have gotten a better sense
of how it all hangs together . . .
how the God of the Old Testament
is also the God of the New;
how Jesus was always in the plans;
how everything was always leading toward grace.

But most of all, above all things,
I hope we have somehow,
in some small way,
reframed the Bible for you . . .
not as a weapon to be used
to beat others over the head;
not as a handbook for excluding others
because of their differences;
not as the story of a vengeful, angry God;
but as a love story for ALL people
given to a messy, messy, messy humanity
by a loving God who—
despite all our faults—
still has not given up on us.

Which brings us to today . . .
and the book of Revelation.

Revelation is considered by many
to be the strangest book
in the entire Bible.

Years ago, I used to do a weekly Bible study
with a small group of folks—
mostly retirees,
mostly women—
and at some point
we decided to tackle Revelation.

Y’all, it took us an entire year.
Because there’s just so much weird stuff going on in there.

No amount of sermon time
would ever allow me to fully unpack
all the mysteries of this strange book,
but if there are just two words
I want you to take away from today,
here they are.

They are:
prophecy and promise.

Let’s start with prophecy.

Prophecy is not prediction . . .
it’s not simply forecasting the future like some kind of magic.
Instead, prophecy—at its heart—is telling the truth of God,
often in the face of terrible injustice.

Yes, it’s often spoken in a particular time
with a particular people
for a particular purpose.

But if it’s real prophecy,
it carries a truth
that echoes through the ages
and points to something even larger on the horizon.

One of the great prophets of the modern age, some say,
was Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
He was not just speaking of some distant future—
he was speaking to people in his time
about what justice and faithfulness required right then and there.

And that helps us understand Revelation.
John wrote it during a time of great upheaval.
The Roman Empire was a mess.
The emperor was a mess.
The early Christian churches were already kind of a mess.

Before John was saying anything else to anyone in the future,
he was saying something to the Christians of his own day:
Stay faithful.
Keep the main thing the main thing.

Now, does that mean that people like my coworker back at JCPenney—
let’s call her Preacher Beth—were entirely wrong?
She used to pull out flow charts
and end-times maps
and talk about how it was all going to unfold.
She really loved Revelation.
And I loved her!
She would grab customers—right there next to the Jockey underwear—
and start talking about Jesus and the end times.

And I’ll be honest with you:
her heart yearned for the second coming of Christ.
Mine does too.
Yours should too.

But if you think you’ve got it all figured out—
mapped out to the last day and hour—
you’re probably wrong.

Even Jesus said he did not know the day or the hour.
So prophecy points us forward,
but always with humility.

Which brings us to the second word: Promise.

Revelation reads like it’s nothing but wrath and judgment,
but it’s so much bigger than that.

Listen again to the words we heard just a moment ago:

“After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count,
from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages,
standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white,
with palm branches in their hands.
They cried out in a loud voice, saying,
‘Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!’
They will hunger no more, and thirst no more;
the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat;
for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

Y’all, these are not threats;
these are promises.

Now, someone recently said to me,
“I always thought the final judgment would be just me and God—
like a one-on-one thing.
But Revelation seems to show it as a group setting.”

And you know what?
That’s right.

Revelation shows us standing together—
all of us—
naked before God.
And I do not just mean without clothes.
I mean without all the baggage,
all the idols,
all the sin,
all the things we’ve clung to.

It will all fall away—
burned off like ash—
and what will remain is just us.
Scared, maybe.
Raw, probably.
But ready to be embraced.

And here’s the good news:
when we stand before the throne of God,
we will not stand alone.

There will be One who sits at God’s right hand—
Jesus, the Christ of God.

And as my friend Kevin once said,
“On that day, I am going to point to him
and say,
‘I dare you to judge me
by any measure
other than your Son.’”

Because Jesus has already filled in all the gaps.
He has already taken on our sins.
He has already poured out grace upon grace upon grace.

And when we stand before God,
we will stand redeemed.
We will stand beloved.
We will stand as saints.
And it will be a party.

That’s the prophecy.
That’s the promise.

God is in the business
of untying the tangled knots
we’ve been making for generations.
And he has not given up on us yet.
And—honestly—he never will.

Which means everything, everywhere
is always pointing to a new beginning.

And so just as we did at Miqra all those months ago,
we do again today.

We’ve reached the end of the Bible,
and so we turn again
to the first chapter
of the first page
of the first book,
and we keep the cycle of new beginnings going.

So look in your bulletin
at the second paragraph
of the second reading,
and let’s read it together:

“The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.
The one who testifies to these things says,
‘Surely I am coming soon.’
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!
The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints.
Amen.”

And now,
with all the prophecies behind us,
and all the promises ahead of us,
and this loving God always, always with us,
let me turn once again to the very beginning
and begin the story anew:

“In the beginning
God created the heavens and the earth.”

Keep the story going.

Amen.